Out of the Shadows
by AlyB123
Summary: Liz enlists Ressler to help her investigate the imposter Red who has been pretending to be her deceased father, Raymond Reddington. Things take an unexpected turn when Red discovers what they've been up to and takes matters into his own hands. Originally published on AO3 for my recipient aussieokie for the 2018 Blacklist Fanfic Exchange.
1. Tradecraft

Red chuckled softly as the lock on the apartment door yielded easily. He didn't have many opportunities to use his tradecraft these days but when he did, he felt a certain rush of pride that his skills were still there. Red scanned the apartment as he closed the door quietly behind him. It was as he expected. Tidy, uncluttered, basic. Nothing ostentatious. Just like its owner. Red slipped into the bedroom and opened the drawer of the bedside table. He only had to shuffle the contents slightly before he found what he was looking for. He reached in and pulled out the gun and slipped it in his pocket. He quickly surveyed the remaining drawers in the room enough to satisfy himself that there weren't any more weapons concealed beneath their contents. Back in the living room, Red's eye fell on a bottle of whiskey and a couple of lowball glasses on the built-in bookcase and his mouth quirked into a faint smile. He poured himself a generous sample of the whiskey and smacked his lips appreciatively. Glass in hand, he licked the fingers of his other hand before he reached into the lamp shade of the single lamp illuminating the room and unscrewed the bulb just enough to plunge the room into darkness. Red took another sip of the whiskey before he removed his gun from its rear holster. Whiskey in one hand, gun in the other, Red sat down in an armchair facing the door to await his prey.

* * *

Donald Ressler unlocked the door to his apartment and reached for the light switch next to the door. He cursed under his breath as nothing happened when he flipped the switch. He could have sworn he had left a lamp on in the living room. He stepped into the living room and froze as he heard the tell-tale click of a gun a split second before he felt the barrel press against his side.

"Hands in the air, Donald. Don't do anything rash," a familiar voice intoned in his ear.

Ressler felt a chill run down his spine and his heart begin to pound as the hairs on his arms stood at attention.

"Reddington? What the hell are you doing breaking into my apartment?" Ressler growled with more bravado than he felt as he lifted his hands reluctantly into the air. He momentarily considered drawing his own weapon but quickly dismissed the thought. If Reddington had come to kill him, he'd be dead before he ever got his gun out of its holster. If he hadn't, there was no point in inviting a bullet.

"I think you know why," Red replied smoothly as he took Ressler's gun and slid a hand in Ressler's pocket to remove his cell phone. "Have a seat, Donald. We have much to discuss." Red prodded Ressler lightly with the barrel of his gun towards the couch. Ressler complied. What choice did he have, really?

Moments later, Ressler blinked owlishly as Red tightened the light bulb and the room was once more bathed in light. Ressler's eyes narrowed as he immediately took note of the partially consumed glass of whiskey Red had left on the end table. Red chuckled as he followed Ressler's gaze.

"You have admirable taste in whiskey, Donald," he remarked. Red walked over to the bookcase, refilled his glass and poured a second glass all while keeping his eyes and his gun carefully trained on Ressler. He knew the younger man might be foolish enough to attempt a move.

Ressler scowled. They both knew the source of that whiskey. Ressler had swiped it from Red's apartment many months back. Ressler reluctantly accepted the glass Red offered him. _He knows_ , Ressler thought. _But how much does he know?_ His mind raced as he tried to think of a way to send a signal to Liz.

"I know what you're thinking, Donald," Red continued conversationally as he resumed his position in the arm chair facing him. "Let me assure you, I know everything about what you and Elizabeth have been up to."

 _Everything?_ Ressler met the criminal's piercing gaze and then lowered his eyes as he took sip of the whiskey. His throat burned pleasantly as the whiskey slid down. _Maybe he's bluffing,_ he thought.

"So if you know everything, why are you here?" Ressler asked as he took another sip of the whiskey in an effort to appear calm.

Red smiled slowly but then leaned forward with a deadly serious expression. "Your clumsy detective work has stirred up some previously still waters. You're going to help me calm them. Drink up Donald, we've got work to do."

Just as Red spoke, Ressler suddenly felt dizzy and he blinked as his vision clouded. Moments later, he barely felt the glass of whiskey slip from his hand as the room faded to black.

* * *

"Are you sure about this Raymond? What if he does not cooperate?" Dembe stood in the doorway of Ressler's bedroom with his arms folded as he watched Red rummage through Ressler's drawers and closet as he packed an overnight bag.

"He'll cooperate once I explain to him why he needs to." Luckily, the agent was as organized as Red had expected and it wasn't much of a challenge to find the necessary articles of clothing.

"Elizabeth won't like this. You should be telling her the story, not him."

Red glanced over at Dembe and exhaled loudly. "And I will. I told you I would and I mean that. But we need him first and he won't do what I ask unless I give him a good reason why."

"And if he does not cooperate even after you tell him? What then?"

Red sighed. "He'll cooperate. When it comes to Elizabeth, Donald's fairly predictable."

Red stepped into the bathroom and grabbed Ressler's razor and toothbrush. He scanned the medicine chest quickly as he packed and was relieved to see no sign of opiates. He'd believed the man to be drug-free for the last several years and so far, all the evidence confirmed it.

Bag in hand, Red returned to the living room and stood with Dembe as they stared at Ressler's prone body on the couch. Red clapped Dembe on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I think you're going to have to manage this one. Are you ready?"

Dembe wordlessly stepped forward and lifted Ressler over his shoulder with only a slight grunt. With a passing glance around the apartment, Red turned off the lights and used Ressler's keys to lock the door.


	2. Partners

_Eight weeks earlier_ …..

Elizabeth Keen pushed aside a pile of photographs in frustration as her sister, Jennifer, watched from the couch. Despite weeks of painstaking research and investigation, they weren't making any progress in uncovering the truth about the man who had seemingly spent nearly three decades posing as their deceased father.

"I think you need to consider asking someone from your team to help us," Jennifer said softly. "If we're going to get anywhere you need to interview people. Dig into our father's history. And Red's. And to do those things, you're going to need backup in the field that I can't provide. Plus, another pair of eyes on all this wouldn't hurt."

Liz glanced up at her sister and shook her head. "It's too risky. Involving any of them just makes it more likely that Reddington will find out that I know the truth." _Reddington_. It wasn't really his name but she continued to call him that for lack of a better option.

"It's too risky _not_ to involve someone else, Liz," Jennifer pressed. "I can't be seen with you in public. Someone from your team can go places with you, be around Reddington, help you investigate while working your cases. There has to be one of them that you can trust with this."

Liz sat back on her heels. Deep down, she knew Jennifer was right. As much as she wanted to keep their investigation a secret, that simply wasn't practical. They weren't getting anywhere with the limited information they had and she was going to have to push things further, find people to interrogate. All of that came with substantial risk. She also knew there was only one realistic possibility.

"It would have to be Ressler," Liz said slowly. "I can't tell Aram because he'd be so nervous that he'd let something slip to Reddington at the first sign of trouble. I'm not sure if I can fully trust Samar. She has loyalties to Reddington that I don't fully understand. I trust Cooper but he's rarely in the field."

The corners of Jennifer's mouth twitched in amusement. "Ressler's the blond lunk who led the charge into the warehouse to rescue you, right?"

Liz glared at her. "He's not a lunk. He's smart and incredibly loyal. And he hunted Reddington for five years before Reddington walked back into my life. It's possible Ressler knows things about him that we don't."

"Well he sounds perfect as long as his loyalty is to you, not Reddington," Jennifer remarked. "Do you think he'll do it?"

Liz exhaled. "I won't know until I talk to him."

* * *

The next day, Liz watched Ressler as he worked, his head bent over a file folder. She felt anxious about approaching him. How would he react when he found out the secret she'd been keeping for weeks? She knew he'd feel betrayed that she had duped him in her escape from the Post Office. He'd forgiven worse but she knew the blow would sting and there was no telling whether he'd be hurt enough to refuse to help. Or worse yet, report her. Finally, she got up and crossed the room and sat on the edge of his desk. He glanced up, surprised, as she took a deep breath.

"I need to ask you a favor," she began hesitantly.

Ressler arched an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. "What's on your mind?" he asked warily.

"I can't tell you here," Liz replied in a low voice. "Could you meet me for a drink after work?"

Ressler frowned. "Are you ok, Liz? What's going on? Is it something to do with Reddington?"

"I'm fine. I'll explain everything tonight. You'll come?" Liz looked at him pleadingly.

Ressler sighed. "Ok, where?"

"The Grey Goose in Georgetown. 8:00. I'll be at a booth in the back. Thank you." Liz squeezed his shoulder lightly as she got up and headed out into the war room. Ressler watched her leave and shook his head. He was sure that whatever she was going to tell him absolutely had to do with Reddington and it wasn't going to be good.

* * *

Liz smiled as Ressler slid into the booth across from her at precisely 8:00. "Thanks for coming." She fingered her mojito nervously as Ressler signaled the waitress and ordered a whiskey on the rocks.

"So what's going on?" Ressler asked as the waitress disappeared.

"Before I tell you, I need you to promise me that this stays between us. You can't tell anyone- not Cooper, not Samar, no one. Will you do that?"

"This has to do with Reddington, doesn't it?" Ressler asked grimly.

Liz nodded. Her mouth felt dry despite the drink. "That's why I need you to give me your word that you won't tell anyone what I'm about to say. Please, Ressler. If you don't want to help me after you hear it I'll understand but I can't tell you any of it unless you promise."

Ressler pursed his lips and nodded slightly. "Alright."

Liz exhaled. Now came the hard part. She waited until the waitress brought Ressler's drink and left. "I haven't been completely honest with you," she began. "You remember Reddington's duffle bag?" Ressler nodded as Liz clutched her glass a little tighter. "I let you all believe that he got away with his secret intact. That wasn't actually the case."

Ressler blinked in surprise and leaned forward with his arms on the table. "So what was in the bag?"

"A skeleton. And a DNA report showing who the bones belonged to."

Ressler frowned. "Which was...?"

"Raymond Reddington. The real Raymond Reddington. My father." Liz sat back and watched a slow flush creep up Ressler's neck as he processed that revelation.

"So you're telling me that the guy we've been working with for the past five years isn't really Raymond Reddington? And he's not your father?" Ressler asked incredulously.

Liz nodded. "And before that, you were chasing a ghost. As far as I can tell, the real Raymond Reddington - my father - has been dead for nearly three decades."

Ressler took a generous gulp of his whiskey. "So who the hell is the guy we know as Reddington?"

Liz shook her head. "I don't know. That's what I want you to help me figure out. I want to know who this man is, why he impersonated my father all these years and what he wants with me."

Ressler licked his lips as he turned over her words. Liz braced herself for what she knew would be his next inevitable question.

"How did you find out?"

Liz hesitated. Telling him all of it could lead to him refusing to help. But she didn't really see a way around it. "From Sutton Ross. He told me when he made you leave the room during interrogation. And he showed me once we got out of the Post Office, before Reddington showed up."

She sat back and watched uneasily as the flush on Ressler's neck deepened as he connected the dots.

"Are you telling me that it was all a ruse? That you duped us into believing Ross had kidnapped you?" Ressler asked tightly.

Liz nodded nervously. "I'm sorry. I had no choice."

"Dammit Liz," Ressler growled as he banged his glass down hard on the table. "Don't give me that. You had a choice. There's always a choice. You chose to lie to us. To me." Ressler shook his head as a muscle in his jaw flickered and Liz could hear the hurt in his voice. He glared at her, eyes blazing.

"Do you have any idea what that was like, believing he had taken you? Believing you were really in danger?" Ressler spat. "And it turns out you were playing us the whole time." He folded his arms and looked away, unwilling to meet her eye.

Liz took a deep breath. She had to try to make him understand. "I was trying to get Reddington to admit the truth. I couldn't do that unless everyone's reactions were genuine. I know you're hurt and I'm truly sorry for that."

"Are you? Or are you just saying that because now you want my help. Good old Donnie, always there to do whatever you want, right?" Ressler replied bitterly.

Liz struggled to contain her own own emotions. "Look, I can't change what I did," she hissed. "And while I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm not sorry I did it. Tom died trying to tell me this secret. I need to understand why. Can't you understand that? Don't you want to know why you've spent the last decade of your life chasing and then abetting a criminal who isn't even who he claims to be? How many lives have been lost because of him, Ressler? Don't you want to know why?"

Liz watched the flush gradually recede from Ressler's face as he took another long sip of his whiskey and stared at the wall. She could see his inner struggle but she was prepared to wait him out. Eventually he turned and met her gaze evenly, his face expressionless.

"I'll help you on one condition."

Liz breathed a sigh of relief. "What's that?"

Ressler licked his lips. "From this moment on you have to be completely honest with me. No more secrets, no more lies. We work on this as partners and we trust each other or we don't do it at all and this conversation never happened." His blue eyes held hers firmly as he waited for her response.

"That's totally fair," Liz replied. She reached across the table and covered his hands with hers and squeezed them. "Thank you."

Ressler's face softened as he nodded and leaned back in his seat. He hoped he wouldn't regret the decision. "So tell me what you know so far."

* * *

Over the next hour, and another round of drinks, Liz filled him in on Jennifer and what they had learned, which wasn't much. When she finished, Ressler looked at her thoughtfully.

"It sounds like you've spent a lot of time trying to piece together the fire you remember and what happened that night."

Liz nodded. "But we're getting nowhere. I can't even be sure that the night of the fire is the same night Jennifer remembers her father - our father - disappearing and not coming home. Jennifer swears that he disappeared Christmas 1990 and that's what the official FBI files say. But other evidence points to the fire happening at least a year before."

"Do you think her memories were manipulated too?"

Liz shrugged. "We don't know. She seems to remember everything else very clearly. I guess it's possible."

Ressler was quiet for a few minutes, thinking. Finally, he leaned forward. "Maybe we need to start at the beginning. Start from the earliest point that we have information about Reddington and see if we can confirm it. If we go back far enough, maybe we'll figure out how our Red knew him and why he decided to become him."

"Jennifer wasn't much older than I was when he disappeared so she doesn't remember him talking about his early life or his parents. We're not even sure where he grew up. The Naval Academy is the first place that we know that he went for sure," Liz replied.

"So how about this weekend we take a trip to Annapolis and visit the Academy and see what we can find out? It might be better to go on a weekday but unless you can come up with an excuse for Cooper, I think we're gonna have to do this on our own time," Ressler offered.

Liz nodded slowly. His suggestion made sense. They'd start from the beginning and try to confirm what they could. She lifted her glass. "Annapolis it is. Here's to finding the truth."

"Here's to finding the truth together," Ressler agreed as he clinked his glass against hers.


	3. Secrets

_Present Day_

Ressler slowly opened his eyes and promptly shut them again. His head was pounding and his mouth and throat felt dry and parched. With one hand pressed against his forehead, he eased himself into a seated position and tentatively opened one eye to take stock of his surroundings.

"Ah, Donald. You're awake. Dembe, fetch him some water. Sorry for the headache, Donald. It should go away soon."

Ressler blinked rapidly as his eyes gradually focused on the scene. He quickly realized he was on Red's private jet and that Red must have drugged him at his apartment to get him there.

"What did you give me? Where are we?" Ressler snapped as he reluctantly accepted a glass of water from Dembe.

"Somewhere over the Atlantic at the moment," Red replied cheerfully. "Don't worry, Donald. It was just a mild sedative. Nothing addictive. Drink up and you'll feel better."

"I'll feel better if you tell me why the hell you abducted me." Ressler glared at Red over the rim of the water glass. The pounding in his head wasn't receding nearly fast enough.

"I didn't abduct you, Donald," Red replied. "Harold agreed to loan me your services for a personal mission. I simply chose to avoid the risk that you'd refuse."

"What sort of personal mission?" Ressler asked suspiciously. He couldn't imagine why Cooper would have agreed to let Red have him without at least telling him first.

"All in due time, all in due time. Come over here and sit by me. As I told you at your apartment, we have much to discuss."

Ressler reluctantly got up and sat across from Red in the seat previously occupied by Dembe.

"Will you at least tell me where we're going?"

"Prague," Red replied curtly. "But we'll get to that." Red leaned back in his chair and fixed Ressler with a steely glare. "I'm disappointed, Donald. I would have thought you'd show me more loyalty after I resolved your Prescott problem instead of running around behind my back poking into my business."

Ressler fumed inwardly. He knew Red's assistance with Prescott had come with a price. It just wasn't one he was prepared to pay.

"Liz asked for my help," he replied tightly. "My loyalty is to her, not you." He returned Red's gaze unflinchingly.

To his surprise, Red's glare softened into a smirk. "That's exactly what I figured you'd say. I know how you feel about Elizabeth. And I'm counting on that in asking you to assist me in this mission."

"What mission?" Ressler asked, confused.

"Don't worry, Donald. I'll explain what you need to know. It's a long story though. Is your head clearing up enough to listen?"

Ressler leaned forward and balled his hands angrily. "My head isn't the problem. The problem is Liz is the one who should be hearing your story, not me. She deserves to know why you've kept up this little charade for three decades. She deserves the truth."

Red leaned back in his chair. A muscle in his cheek twitched slightly. "Elizabeth will hear all of what I am going to tell you when we return. From both of us. I am not asking you to keep secrets from her for longer that it takes us to accomplish this mission. But first, you need to hear me out. Are you ready to listen?"

Ressler nodded reluctantly.

* * *

Liz glanced at her watch. Ressler was late to work. He was almost never late. She tried his phone but he didn't answer. She began to feel a creeping sense of unease. Liz headed out into the war room and stopped at Aram's workstation.

"Have you heard from Ressler? He didn't say anything about not coming in today."

Aram looked up and shrugged. "I didn't talk to him but I think Mr. Cooper said he's doing something with Mr. Reddington. I assumed you knew. Liz? Liz, is everything ok?" Aram called after her as Liz took the stairs two at a time to Cooper's office.

"Where's Ressler?" Liz demanded urgently.

Cooper blinked, surprised. "He's with Reddington. Reddington asked if he could borrow him for a couple of days. Wanted him for some undercover operation to smoke out a mole in Reddington's Latin American shipping operations. Said it would lead us to our next case."

"And you let him take him? Just like that?" Liz felt a rising tide of panic. Wherever Red had taken Ressler she was fairly sure it wasn't Latin America.

"I left Agent Ressler a message last night telling him that if he had any problems or concerns with the mission he should contact me immediately. He didn't and he hasn't. What's going on, Agent Keen?" Cooper replied brusquely. "What are you not telling me?"

Liz swallowed hard. She wasn't prepared to let Cooper in on all of it just yet. Not until she was sure what Red was up to. "I was concerned I couldn't reach Ressler, sir. It's not like him not to answer his phone."

Cooper gazed at her sternly. "They're probably in transit and out of reach. But if you have reason to believe Ressler's in some kind of danger that I'm not aware of, I trust you'll tell me. Immediately."

"Yes, Sir," Liz replied miserably. Her head was spinning. She needed to collect herself and decide what to do.

Back in her office, Liz fought to quell the panic that was quickly overtaking her. Red had killed before to keep his secret. While she thought it extremely unlikely that Red would harm Ressler, she couldn't entirely rule it out. And the thought terrified her. She was going to have to tell Cooper. She couldn't handle the thought of anything happening to Ressler. She'd experienced enough loss to last a lifetime.

Just as Liz got up from her desk to return to Cooper's office, Samar stepped into the office and closed the door. "What's going on, Liz?" Samar asked. "Aram said you looked like you'd seen a ghost when he told you Ressler was with Reddington. What's Reddington up to? Is Ressler in some kind of danger?"

Liz couldn't meet Samar's eyes. "I'm not sure," she admitted reluctantly.

Samar folded her arms. "Then you need to tell us what's going on, Liz. Obviously, there's something you've been keeping from us."

Liz took a deep breath. "There is. I was just heading up to talk to Cooper. It's probably best if I explain it to you all at once. Let's grab Aram and go up there together."

* * *

"Have you ever heard of the illegals program, Donald?" Red asked as he sipped his drink.

Ressler frowned. "You mean espionage? Russian spies living here in the United States undercover?"

Reddington nodded. "Yes. A program that continues to this day but that developed during the Cold War. Back then, the Soviet Union sent a number of spies to live here in the United States as deep cover operatives. They were highly trained operatives who passed easily for Americans. They held ordinary jobs, lived seemingly ordinary lives, raised families. All the while reporting back to the motherland, serving as conduits for communications or eyes for deep cover operations."

"Are you gonna tell me you're really a Russian spy?" Ressler interjected.

Reddington chuckled. "I think you know the answer to that question already, Donald. But if you need to hear it from my lips to believe it - no. I am not. Sorry to disappoint. I wish my story was that simple."

Ressler nodded in acknowledgment. He and Liz had thought it extremely unlikely, but it was good to have the confirmation.

"What few people know," Reddington continued, "is that in the 1960s, the Soviet Union took their program a step further. They took children. Highly intelligent children - orphans, mainly, but some others who they selected. And they trained them in special schools from a tender age to be deep cover operatives with the idea that those children would, by the time they were teenagers, go reside in the United States. They would live with fake parents who were also operatives in ordinary communities, complete high school, get accepted to and attend the most prestigious colleges and universities, all the while working on career paths that would allow them to eventually infiltrate the highest levels of American business, government and the military."

Ressler stared at Red. "Child spies?"

Red nodded and took another sip of his drink. "It was a program that required a great deal of time and patience. But, played right, the payoff would be enormous. Their secret operatives would have access to defense contractors, financial institutions, classified government information - over time, all the places necessary to control key aspects of American power."

"What does this have to do with Raymond Reddington?" Ressler asked suspiciously.

Red leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "You and Elizabeth went to Annapolis. What did you learn about Naval Academy star Raymond Reddington?"

* * *

Liz flinched as Cooper got up abruptly from his desk and began pacing around the office as she finished her story about Sutton Ross, the bag of bones, and her decision to investigate Reddington with Ressler's help. Samar also looked angry. Aram simply looked stunned.

"Dammit, Agent Keen, I thought we were well past the point of keeping important information like this from each other," Cooper began angrily. "If what you're telling me is true, Agent Ressler's life may be at risk because you two weren't honest with me. I can't believe you decided to investigate Reddington all on your own."

Liz hung her head. "I'm sorry, sir. We thought - _I_ thought - it was best if we kept the information just between us until we knew all the facts. We were getting closer. Reddington must have found out somehow."

Cooper took a deep breath. He was as angry as she'd ever seen him. "I'm not sure why it surprises you at all that Reddington would have used his considerable resources to know exactly what you two were up to. What we need to focus on now, however, is finding Agent Ressler and getting to him as quickly as possible. Aram, put a trace on Ressler's phone. Agent Navabi, pull all flight plans from the local airports. Let's figure out where Reddington's jet is really headed. And Keen - you are going to sit here and go over every detail of what you and Ressler have been up to. I want nothing - nothing held back. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," Liz whispered.


	4. Annapolis

_Seven weeks earlier..._

It was a warm, late summer Saturday when Liz and Ressler visited the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. Liz had made some phone calls in the days preceding their arrival and had persuaded the young Academy archivist to allow them to come in on the weekend to review the Academy's records. She had convinced her they had urgent business related to their search for one of the FBI's Most Wanted fugitives- the elusive Raymond Reddington- that simply couldn't wait until Monday morning. Armed with makeshift paperwork that they had waived under her nose and then quickly re-pocketed, they sat together at a table poring over a dusty file filled with commendations and other academic accolades.

"I would have thought that the FBI would have already gone over every inch of this file years ago," the archivist grumbled as she deposited a stack of newspapers on the table next to them. They had asked to review newspapers dating back to Reddington's tenure at the Academy in the hopes of spotting a photo.

"There have been some new developments in our investigation," Ressler replied smoothly. "So we need to go back over some old information in light of that. We really appreciate you letting us in here on a Saturday," he added with a warm smile.

The young archivist shyly returned the smile. "Oh, it's my pleasure," she murmured as she blushed and hastily walked away.

Liz stifled a laugh. "Look at you turning on the charm," she whispered. "I'm surprised she hasn't asked for your card."

Ressler chuckled. "Hey, whatever works." He pushed the academic folder aside and grabbed a newspaper off the pile. "So far, everything checks out. This guy was a superstar it seems. Excelled at everything he did. Now if we can just find a better photo." Reddington's Academy file had a small ID photo of a young, fresh faced man in a dress uniform. The man looked like he could be a younger version of their Red but it was hard to tell.

They worked quietly for a while until Liz paused at a newspaper photo of a group of cadets smiling outside a dorm. According to the caption the man in the center was Reddington. He had his arms draped over the shoulders of two other cadets named Collins and Brooks. Neither resembled their Red. Liz stared at the photo of Reddington, trying to compare it against the face of the man she knew. There was certainly a resemblance. Enough that most people wouldn't question it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ressler's voice interrupted her reverie and Liz looked up to see him watching her. She sighed and pushed the photo towards him.

"I can't tell much from this photo. I guess maybe I am trying to see myself or Jennifer in him. It's hard."

Ressler studied the photo. "Collins and Brooks. They look like his buddies. Maybe we track them down, talk to them, find out what they remember. Who his friends were. Maybe that will get us somewhere."

They spent another couple of hours rummaging through old newspapers and yearbooks. Reddington's senior pictures were the clearest. Liz wished they were in color so she could compare his eye and hair color. They made copies of the photos and took notes but in the end, they learned little that hadn't been included in their original file on Reddington. So far, the background checked out. As Liz cleaned up the table, Ressler walked over and persuaded the young archivist to give him contact information for Brooks and Collins. He came back with a bemused grin and gave Liz a thumbs up.

"So you got the addresses?" Liz asked as they walked out of the building into the late afternoon sun.

"I got one for Brooks. Collins was apparently killed in action during the Gulf War. And she slipped me her phone number too."

Liz burst out laughing. "I knew it! I knew she had a thing for you!"

"Hey, what can I say. I'm a charmer," Ressler said lightly. It was good to hear Liz laugh.

"You certainly are," Liz agreed.

Ressler glanced around the campus. "Well, it's a nice evening. Can I charm you into having dinner somewhere before we head back?"

"Sure, why not."

* * *

They found an open air seafood restaurant with a view of the Chesapeake Bay and ordered crab cakes and a bottle of wine to share. It was a warm, balmy evening with a light breeze and the bay was dotted with small boats.

"Do you think our Red even went to the Academy?" Liz asked as she sipped her wine. "I find myself questioning everything now. I have to wonder if he met my father later, through my mother, or in some other way."

Ressler shook his head. "My guess is that he didn't. Red doesn't seem the type to be comfortable playing by the rules and following authority the way the Navy would have required. I always found it hard to picture him as a Navy man."

"He likes to paint outside the lines," Liz murmured.

"Exactly. I say we talk to the friends anyway. That may give us the confirmation we need of what Raymond Reddington was really like." Ressler reached for the bottle and refilled Liz's glass as she took another bite of crab cake.

"I spent the past couple of years believing Red was my father. I was terrified at the thought I might be like him. Now I'm back to not knowing who I am," Liz said wearily.

"Your biological parents don't make you who you are, Liz," Ressler replied evenly. "Don't kid yourself that DNA is everything. Your dad - Sam - he raised you. He helped shape you more than anything in your genetics. We are who we are only in part because of our parents. I knew both my parents and there's things I've done that - well, let's just say I've done things my father never would have done." He glanced away at the harbor, discomfort etched on his face.

"I know you're right," Liz replied slowly. "But I still feel this need to understand my parents - who they were, what happened to them? Now, more than ever."

"I get that, I do. But you've got to live your life too."

They continued their meal in silence for a time. Ressler watched Liz as she ate. There was an emotional guardedness about her that was all too familiar to him. She'd built walls to protect herself, just as he had after Audrey's death.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked eventually. Liz nodded and Ressler continued, "What's your plan for Agnes? Are you gonna bring her home at some point? Now that Garvey's dead?"

Liz looked uncomfortable. "I want to. More than anything," she began slowly. "But this not knowing - not knowing why my life is how it is. I can't even think about it until I know she's not in danger. That's why I need these answers. So I can start living my life again." Liz blinked rapidly and looked down at her hands.

Ressler exhaled slowly. "I didn't mean to upset you. We're gonna figure this out, ok? As fast as we can, so you can bring her home." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand firmly.

They spent the rest of dinner on lighter topics that didn't involve Reddington and afterwards, they took a walk along the waterfront in the fading light. The walkway was dotted with couples, people walking dogs, and children playing.

"It's pretty here," Liz said as they strolled. "A different feel than D.C." She glanced up at Ressler. "Thanks for giving up your Saturday for this. I'm sure you've got better things to do. I want you to know I appreciate it."

Ressler grinned and shook his head slightly. "Don't apologize, Liz." He looked around at the harbor. "I enjoyed today. Definitely beats sitting alone with a beer in front of the TV."

"Is that how you usually spend your weekends?" Liz teased. "I find that hard to believe."

Ressler shrugged. "I go for a run, sometimes hit the gym, run some errands, do the shopping - it's a pretty mundane life."

"It sounds like you need to get out more," Liz replied playfully.

"You got that right," Ressler agreed.

* * *

Later that week, they paid Larry Brooks a visit. Brooks was a slight, salt and pepper haired man who lived in Northern Virginia and worked for a defense contractor. His office was filled with memorabilia from his Navy days.

"Thanks for taking the time to meet with us, Mr. Brooks," Liz began as they sat down in his office.

"I'm happy to answer what I can," Brooks said, "but I'm not sure what I can tell you about Reddington that you don't already know. The FBI's been on his trail for decades now. I haven't seen the man since we graduated."

"Do you recognize this man?" Ressler slid a color photo of Red across the desk. Brooks picked up the photo and studied it and then shook his head.

"He looks kind of like Reddington but we've all changed so much in thirty years. If I didn't know why you were here, I wouldn't recognize him." Brooks handed the photo back to Ressler who pocketed it. "I certainly wouldn't recognize him if I bumped into him on the street," he added.

"What do you remember about Reddington?" Liz continued, "did he ever talk about his family or where he was from? What was he like?"

Brooks thought for a moment. "Pretty sure he was from a small town in the midwest somewhere. Michigan maybe? Illinois? I'm not sure. I don't remember him talking much about home or his family. I feel like his parents were dead already? He was super smart though. Affable guy. Got along with everyone. A real boy scout type - always top of the class in anything he tried."

Ressler glanced at Liz. "Was he dating anyone? Involved with anyone outside the Academy?"

Brooks shrugged. "Reddington was always popular with the ladies. Good looking guy. I think by our senior year he was dating the woman he eventually married. I don't remember her name. I never met her more than once or twice. Cadets didn't usually bring their ladies on campus if they could help it. It was better to meet elsewhere, if you know what I mean."

"Were you surprised when you heard he turned traitor?" Liz asked.

Brooks's expression turned serious. "I definitely was. The man I knew respected this country. He was ambitious, he wanted to move up high in the Navy ranks. It's hard to believe he would have thrown that all away so easily. Something bad must have happened in his life."

They spent nearly an hour questioning Brooks. All of his answers portrayed a very similar picture of Reddington as a polite, poised and ambitious young man with a bright future ahead of him when he graduated. Exactly what the FBI's files had shown all along. Brooks provided them with a list of everyone he could recall who was friends with Reddington at the Academy. Ressler tucked the list in his pocket. He had his doubts that it would reveal anything about Red, but they'd quietly cross check all the names and see if anything turned up.

"I feel like we're getting nowhere," Liz sighed as they got back into their SUV to head back to D.C.

"I wouldn't say nowhere," Ressler replied slowly. "I think what the files in Annapolis and Brooks confirm is that the Reddington who attended the Academy and who married Carla is not our Red."

"But we knew that already," Liz began.

"Yes," Ressler interjected. "But we needed to confirm the timetable." He patted the list in his pocket. "We'll run these names, but I'm gonna bet that our Red didn't meet Reddington until well after his Academy days. So that's what we need to focus on next. When and how did they become acquainted."

"It has to be through my mother somehow," Liz mused. "Her diary implied Reddington was her target. Maybe that was all a fake narrative written for Kirk's benefit. But it seemed genuine. So - assuming it is - why would a KGB spy target a young Naval Intelligence officer? What was he involved with that would have been of interest to her?"

"It's a shame there isn't anyone we can interview who knew them both," Ressler mused.

"Actually, there is," Liz replied slowly. "Maybe we need to take another shot at him."

Ressler arched an eyebrow. "Who is this guy?"

"Dominick Wilkinson. He was investigated at one point by the CIA on suspicion he was a Russian agent. Code name Oleander. Tom had that name written in a notebook when he was investigating the bones. Cooper pulled some strings, found out that Oleander was a person and that the CIA had questioned this man. I paid him a visit. He said he knew my mother. He worked alongside KGB agents. And he seemed to know about Reddington. He just said he didn't want to talk about him. I didn't push it at the time."

"Where does this guy live?"

"About 90 minutes away in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. You up for taking a run at him this weekend?"

"Sure," Ressler replied with a grin. "Like you said, I need to get out more."


	5. Oleander

_Present Day_

"We learned that Raymond Reddington was the model student. Thick file of commendations. On the fast track to being a Navy superstar. Nothing we didn't already have in our files," Ressler replied tightly.

Red nodded. "And his background? Where he came from? What did you learn about that?"

"Not much," Ressler admitted. "We spoke to a classmate - a friend. He didn't remember Reddington ever talking about his family. Thought he came from some small town in the midwest. Thought his parents were dead."

Red leaned back in his chair. "It was a perfect facade, wasn't it? Small town boy. Well-liked. Good student, good athlete. A real go-getter. Parents tragically killed in a car accident just before he started at the Academy."

Ressler blinked. "Are you trying to tell me that Raymond Reddington - the real Raymond Reddington - was what? One of these Soviet child spy plants?"

Red looked smugly satisfied. "Indeed. An extremely talented covert operative. Not unlike another one you were familiar with. Just a little more polished."

Ressler gaped at Red. "You mean Reddington was like Tom Keen?"

Red shrugged. "In some respects, yes. Of course, Tom wasn't Russian. But, like Tom, Reddington was a fiction. Trained from early youth to live a fictitious life. Reddington was no more his name than it is mine. It was a carefully crafted identity from the get-go. He was a bit more controlled than Tom, at least early on. All that vigilant Soviet training. He came to the United States with his fictitious parents a few years before he started high school. New to town, no one asked too many questions. By the time he graduated high school, he had a legitimate American record. No one cared about his past prior to that. The parents conveniently died in a car wreck but in reality, they resumed their lives in Moscow."

Ressler leaned forward in his seat. "So what - he was reporting to the Soviets from the Academy?"

Red shook his head. "No. His mission was to be the model student and the model Navy officer. Work himself up into a position of prominence where he'd eventually have access to important classified information. He took a job in Naval Intelligence to set himself on that path. It allowed him to travel back and forth between the United States and Moscow without suspicion. Laying the groundwork for what was to come."

"So if Reddington was really a covert Soviet operative then why would he be the target of a KGB agent? Why would the KGB risk outing him? That doesn't make any sense," Ressler remarked.

"It makes perfect sense, Donald, if you assume that Reddington and Katarina Rostova were both playing their parts. Not everything is as black and white as it may seem. How's your head?"

Ressler glared at Red. His head was still pounding and the new barrage of information wasn't helping. He felt like he was missing a key piece of the puzzle. Something twisting just outside his reach. They sat in silence for several minutes until finally it clicked.

"Katarina Rostova wasn't working for the Soviets when she targeted Reddington," Ressler said incredulously.

Red smiled slowly. "Bravo, Donald. You're starting to catch on."

* * *

"Sir? Agent Ressler's phone is offline, as we expected. So is Dembe's. And we haven't been able to find any evidence of a flight plan for Mr. Reddington's jet to any airport in South America," Aram announced nervously from the doorway.

Cooper removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "So what exactly _do_ we know, Agent Mojtabai?"

"Not much, but Mr. Reddington's Mercedes is still at the airport. I'm working on putting together a list of his most recent destinations from the car's navigation system. Even though Dembe never uses it, it still stores a certain amount of data on where the car has been. His last stop before the airport was Agent Ressler's apartment - no surprise there. Most of the other recent stops were here in D.C. Restaurants, hotels. The only outlier was a house in rural Pennsylvania. Bucks County."

Liz sat up straight in her chair. "Where exactly in Bucks County?"

"Does that location mean something to you, Agent Keen?" Cooper interjected before Aram could respond.

"Maybe," Liz replied. "You remember Oleander?"

"The name in Tom's journal? The man you suspected of being a former Russian operative who you interviewed? Yes, I remember. What does he have to do with this?"

"He lives in Bucks County," Liz replied. "Ressler and I paid him another visit recently. I was getting to that."

"You went back to see Oleander and you didn't tell me?" Cooper snapped. Liz flinched as he got up from his desk and began to pace around the room.

"Umm, sir?" Aram glanced nervously back and forth between Cooper and Liz. "I think there's something else you both should know."

"And what's that?" Cooper asked tersely.

"Well," Aram fidgeted nervously, "the address Mr. Reddington visited - I've been there before."

Cooper arched an eyebrow. "When?"

"After Agent Keen died. I mean after she pretended she died," Aram added hastily with a nervous glance at Liz. "I went to see Mr. Reddington to beg him to come back and help us find the people who attacked her wedding. I convinced Dembe to tell me where he was. And I drove out to this house and he was there. Staying there, I think."

Liz felt a chill run down her spine. "Who lives at the house you went to, Aram?" She had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.

"The property records show that it's owned by a Dominick Wilkinson," Aram replied. "I never met him. I never saw anyone but Mr. Reddington when I went there. But it's the same house. Maybe he's a friend or a relative of Mr. Reddington's? Liz? Are you ok?"

Liz took a deep shuddery breath. Her head was spinning and she felt lightheaded. Wilkinson had admitted to knowing her mother. Now it was clear that he also knew Red. Well enough that Red had gone to see him recently. Wilkinson must have told Red that she had returned with Ressler. Which confirmed that Red knew that she knew that he wasn't who he claimed to be.

* * *

"So if Katarina Rostova wasn't working for the KGB when she targeted Reddington, who _was_ she working for? The CIA?" Ressler was still struggling to process the thought that decorated Naval officer Raymond Reddington was in fact a Soviet planted operative. "It _has_ to have been the CIA, right?"

Red watched Ressler with bemused smile. "You'll recall what I said to Agent Malek years back? Attractive, but treacherous? That was Katarina."

"But you told Liz she was KGB. Liz seemed sure of that much," Ressler protested.

"She was," Red paused and sipped his drink. "But she became a double agent and agreed to help target Reddington in order to assist the CIA in determining exactly how far the program that planted him here went. Her job was to get close to him, befriend him - she wasn't supposed to fall in love with him."

"I still don't understand why she would agree to this - if they were both Russian, why would she turn around and help the Americans?"

Red tilted his head before fixing his eyes on Ressler. "Because of her father."

"Her father…" once again, Ressler felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle that was just out of his reach.

Red sat back and watched him quietly but offered no further explanation. Eventually, a face popped into Ressler's mind.

"Oleander?" he asked cautiously.

Red nodded slowly. "Indeed."

Ressler sat back in his seat, stunned. They were farther down the rabbit hole than even he could have imagined.


	6. Dom

_Six weeks earlier_

"This isn't exactly where I'd expect to find a former Soviet spy," Ressler mused as they pulled up in front of the unassuming brown house set back from the road.

"He claims he never was a spy," Liz replied as she got out of the car. "But conveniently, he knew spies, including my mother."

"Which tells us right there, he's hiding something," Ressler replied as he looked around the tidy yard.

They walked up to the blue front door and knocked. After a few minutes they heard feet shuffling. There was a pause as the occupant of the house must have looked out through the panes of glass in the door and seen them.

"What do you want?" an irritated, slightly accented voice asked from the other side of the door.

"Agents Ressler and Keen, FBI," Liz replied firmly. "I have some more questions for you, Mr. Wilkinson."

The door swung open and Ressler found himself face to face with a white haired elderly man who looked far from pleased to see them. The man folded his arms and looked at Liz with a piercing stare.

"I told you all I knew the last time you were here, Agent Keen. Why are you bothering me again? And who's this?"

"This is my partner, Donald Ressler," Liz replied as they both flashed their badges. "There have been some new developments in our investigation. We'll try to take as little of your time as possible, but there are some additional questions we need to ask."

The old man looked Ressler up and down with a grim expression. There was something about his face that Ressler found vaguely unsettling but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Very well, come in. You want coffee? Tea?" He asked as he shuffled into the kitchen, the two agents trailing behind him. Ressler scanned the rooms as they made their way to the back of the house. There was a piano in a corner of the living room and a number of books. No photos or any evidence that any other family lived there.

"Tea would be lovely if it's not too much trouble," Liz replied.

"Well it's the least I can do if Katarina's daughter insists on paying me another visit, right?" the old man winked at Liz. "What can I get you, young man?"

Ressler glanced at Liz. "I'm good, thanks. We're sorry to bother you. Thank you for taking the time."

The old man nodded slightly in acknowledgment. When they were all seated around the kitchen table, he folded his hands and leaned back in his chair and regarded them both with a smug expression. "So what brings you here this time, Agent Keen. I told you last time you were here everything I knew about Katarina Rostova."

"That's the thing, I don't think you did," Liz replied as she leaned forward on her elbows and traced her finger lightly on the surface of the table. "You told me last time that you didn't want to talk about Reddington. But you clearly knew who he was. I didn't press last time, but now I need to know. Do you know Reddington? Have the two of you met?"

Wilkinson looked clearly uncomfortable at the question. "I still don't want to talk about Reddington," he replied testily. "I don't see what this has to do with your mother."

"I understand that talking about Reddington may bring back some unpleasant memories, Mr. Wilkinson," Ressler Interjected, "but, as you know, Raymond Reddington has been at the top of the Bureau's Most Wanted list for years. We have reason to believe that the Raymond Reddington the FBI has been pursuing all this time may actually be an imposter. So it's very important that you tell us what you recall of him."

Wilkinson managed to keep his face mostly under control but Ressler and Liz both noticed the slightest twitch of his jaw.

"Please, Mr. Wilkinson," Liz added. "I have reason to believe that Reddington was involved with my mother. It's important to me to understand their relationship."

"Are you sure you're here on official FBI business, young lady? This sounds more like a personal mission." Wilkinson's blue eyes flashed and Ressler once more felt something uncomfortably familiar about the man's gaze.

"It's a little bit of both," Ressler replied smoothly. "The Bureau has been after Raymond Reddington for years. Agent Keen is also interested in the personal connection. But our primary mission is to locate and apprehend Raymond Reddington."

The old man chuckled and shook his head. "Your young man here is earnest, I'll give him that," he said to Liz. "But you're never going to find Raymond Reddington. Don't waste your time."

"Have you ever met Raymond Reddington?" Ressler pressed as Liz opened her mouth to protest.

Wilkinson gazed at him thoughtfully, clearly weighing what to say. "I saw him once in Moscow, years ago," he said finally. "We did not speak."

"Then why are you so reluctant to talk about him?" Ressler asked. "If you two never spoke."

"Is it because of Katarina?" Liz asked before Wilkinson could respond. Ressler shot her a look to try to remind her to be cautious and take it slow. She couldn't let her own desire for answers overtake their investigation.

Wilkinson pursed his lips. "Yes. Katarina - she was never the same after she met him. He's the reason she went to America in the end. As far as I know, he's the reason she disappeared."

Liz glanced at Ressler who nodded slightly. They'd agreed on the way here they would put forward as much of the facts as they could in the hopes that Wilkinson would let something slip. "They had an affair, didn't they?" Liz asked.

Wilkinson's expression soured. "Yes," he replied curtly.

"But you only saw them together once?" Liz asked. "Where was that?"

Wilkinson stared silently off into the distance. "I saw them in a park in Moscow. They were holding hands. Like a couple. I asked Katarina about it the next time I saw her because I knew he was not her husband."

"Did they have a child with them?" Liz asked eagerly. Ressler put a hand on her arm to caution her. She was pushing too hard again.

"No," Wilkinson replied with a faint smirk. "There was no child."

"I have reason to believe that Raymond Reddington is my father," Liz said softly. "I also have reason to believe that he died when I was four. And that the man that the world knows today as Raymond Reddington is not my father." Ressler watched as the pulse in Wilkinson's neck began to beat more rapidly.

"I can't say anything about that," Wilkinson replied tightly.

"You can't? Or you won't?" Liz pressed.

Wilkinson pushed his chair back from the table with a bang. "Young lady, I've told you all I can. I'm an old man. My health is not good. I think we've talked enough for today," He stood up and folded his arms. Ressler glanced at Liz. It was clear the old man was uncomfortable with their questions.

Ressler pulled a photograph out of his jacket pocket. "Do you recognize this man?" He asked as he held the photo of Red in front of Wilkinson. The old man's expression hardened. "He looks like the man I saw in Moscow, with Katarina," he replied tersely. "Beyond that, I have nothing more to say." He turned on his heel and began walking towards the front door, Ressler and Liz following closely behind him. Ressler exchanged a look with Liz and she shook her head slightly.

"If you think of anything else - anything at all - please give us a call Mr. Wilkinson," Ressler said as he handed the man their cards. Wilkinson glanced at the cards before shoving them in his pocket.

"Don't expect to hear from me," he replied gruffly. "I have nothing more to say."

When they got back to the car, Liz shook her head in frustration. "He still knows more than he's saying. I know it. He's hiding something. Why is he so reluctant to talk about Reddington? It's clear he disliked him."

"We definitely unsettled him with our questions," Ressler agreed. "I say we do a little more digging into Mr. Wilkinson. Figure out what got the CIA's suspicions going on him in the first place. Why they think he's Oleander. Who Oleander was. Maybe we find something they missed. Something we can use to pressure him."

"How do you suggest we do that?" Liz asked. "The CIA's not exactly an open book when it comes to sharing information."

"No," Ressler replied slowly. "But, I have a contact from my early days on the Reddington task force. I'll try to set up a meeting and see if I can get him to help us." He owes me a favor. Maybe it's time to call it in.

"You sound like Reddington," Liz replied with a chuckle.

Ressler shook his head. "Maybe he's rubbing off."

* * *

Red groaned as he saw Dom's number flash on his phone. "What is it? What's happened?" he asked.

"Masha was here again," Dom replied grimly. "This time she brought her young man."

"Her young man? Who are you talking about?" Red asked, genuinely confused.

"Her partner, The blonde agent. Ressler I think he said? I see the way he looks at her," the old man chuckled. "How he is protective over her. I think he wants to be more than partners."

Red rolled his eyes. He didn't disagree with the man's assessment of Ressler but now wasn't the time. "What did they want? What did they ask you?" he pressed.

Dom exhaled. "They asked about Raymond Reddington. They said they have reason to believe that the man they are currently chasing is an imposter."

Red inhaled sharply. "Did they say anything else?"

"Masha said she thinks the real Raymond Reddington - not the imposter - is her father," Dom replied. "I told you she would find out, Raymond. She's like her mother. She was never going to let it go."

Red closed his eyes and shook his head. He'd hoped that the damage had been contained but apparently Liz had in fact uncovered the identity of the skeleton in the duffle bag. She had to have learned the truth from Sutton Ross. There was no other likely explanation. "What did you tell them?" he managed. His mind was racing. He cursed himself for not realizing sooner that she knew. He had a blind spot when it came to her.

"Nothing. I told them I saw Reddington once with Katarina in Moscow. They showed me a picture of you and I told them you looked like the Reddington I saw in Moscow. They left, but they may come back. You're going to have to tell her, Raymond. You can't hide the truth anymore. She's going to keep asking questions until she figures it out on her own. Who knows what stones they will unturn."

Red swallowed hard. He'd known this day would come. Hopefully he could reign in Liz's investigation before things went too far.

"Thank you for calling me, Dom. Let me know if they return. I'll ask some of my men to keep an eye on your house."

"I don't need your protection after all these years," Dom replied testily. "If it's my time, it's my time."

"Please don't say that," Red implored him. "Especially not now. I'll be in touch." Red hung up the phone and rested his head in his hands.

"What is it? What's happened?" Dembe asked from the doorway. He had appeared silently and could tell immediately from Red's posture that something was wrong.

"She knows," Reddington said simply. "She and Ressler went to see Dom today."

"What did he tell her?" Dembe asked.

"Nothing of importance," Red replied. "But from what they told him, they know about the bones. And the DNA report. Ross must've told her before we got there. And if she's told Ressler then Harold knows too, or it's only a short matter of time before he finds out."

"So when are you going to tell her the rest of it?" Dembe asked. "You can't let this situation get out of your control."

"It already has gotten out of my control to an extent," Red replied with a sigh. "I can't tell her the whole story until we have the information we need. Otherwise, we're all just a bunch of blind fools."

"So what are you going to do?" Dembe asked.

"I'm going to give Harold another Blacklister," Red replied. "That should hopefully keep them busy enough that it will slow down their investigation and buy us some time."

* * *

"Can I ask you something?" Liz asked as Ressler drove her home from the airport two weeks later. Shortly after their visit to Dom's, Red had presented them with a new case and they'd spent most of the past couple of weeks on the road traveling with Red as they hunted their latest Blacklister. As a result, they'd had little time to think about, much less continue their investigation into his past.

Ressler glanced at Liz as he drove. "Sure, what?"

"Did Reddington seem any different to you with this case?"

"Different how?"

Liz shook her head. "I can't put a finger on it, but something felt - different with him. On the surface he was fully engaged with the case, jovial even. But there were moments where I felt like he was looking at me differently. Watching me."

Ressler arched an eyebrow. "You think he suspects that you know his secret?"

Liz bit her lip. "I don't think so. How could he?"

Ressler chuckled. "I wouldn't put anything past him. But, we'll be careful. Now that we're finally back, hopefully I can set up a meeting with my buddy at the CIA."

Ressler pulled the SUV up in front of Liz's apartment and retrieved her bag from the trunk.

"I'll bring it up for you," he said as he waved off her effort to carry it herself.

"Thanks," she replied with a soft smile.

Liz unlocked the door and groaned as a wave of heat greeted her. "Ugh, I'll turn on the AC. This place is stifling. You want a cold beer for your trouble?" she asked as she glanced at the suitcase.

"It was no trouble," Ressler chuckled. "But I won't refuse a cold one." He loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves and took a seat on the couch.

Liz returned from the kitchen with two bottles of beer and handed one to Ressler. He looked rumpled from the travel and the heat. It had been a long couple of weeks. Liz sighed as she sank on to the couch next to him and fanned herself with a magazine. Her eyes met his and they both burst into laughter.

"I don't know about you, but I'm wiped," he managed as he took a long sip of his beer. "I felt like a hamster on one of those wheels the last couple of weeks, running from place to place."

"Me too," Liz agreed. "If Reddington keeps giving us cases like this last one, we'll never get anywhere because we'll never be home."

"Maybe that's his plan," Ressler joked. "Keep us so busy that we don't have time to think."

Liz's expression turned serious. "That's exactly what I'm wondering. Now that we're back, you need to have that meeting with your contact as soon as possible."

* * *

Two nights later, Ressler slid into a booth in the back of a bar in Alexandria and greeted a slight, dark haired man with glasses.

"Adam, thanks for meeting me," Ressler began as he shook the man's hand.

Adam adjusted his glasses on his nose. "I'm intrigued. You said this has to do with Raymond Reddington? I didn't think you were still running point on that case."

Ressler shrugged. "Bureau still has me chasing leads when they come up."

Adam sipped his drink. "Funny. I thought they had largely given up on hunting him down after he made that big splash on national TV with that agent - what was her name? Keen? Your partner, right?"

Ressler shifted uncomfortably. He was hoping Adam wouldn't recall that particular connection. "We're still hunting," Ressler replied. "Just a little more under the radar than in the past. Keen's back with the Bureau. She's assisting us in our investigation. She got to know him pretty well during their time together."

"I'll bet," Adam replied with a chuckle. "Well, I'm sure you didn't bring me here to discuss your partner. What information are you looking for from me?"

Ressler glanced around the bar before leaning forward and saying in a low voice, "I've got reason to believe that Reddington is connected somehow to a Russian operative who went by the name of Oleander. An operative who may or may not be hiding here in the United States. I need you to shake some trees at Langley and see if you can find out anything. A whisper, something. I need to know what the CIA knows about Oleander. If I can figure out who he is, that may help lead us to Reddington."

Adam leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his drink. "Sounds intriguing. But not without risk. Reddington's like the third rail in our building after what he did to the Director. People don't like him."

Ressler licked his lips. "I understand. And I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't extremely important. Just like I never said anything about what really happened in Brussels."

Adam flinched slightly. "I'll see what I can do," he replied tightly. "But this is a one-time thing. Is that clear?"

Ressler nodded. "Crystal," he replied.


	7. Trust

_Present day_

"Dom Wilkinson is not only Oleander but also the father of Katarina Rostova?" Ressler repeated, still stunned. "That makes him…"

"Elizabeth's grandfather, yes," Red replied brusquely.

"But why…why didn't he…?" Ressler stammered.

"Why he didn't tell her he was her grandfather on either of the occasions he saw her? Because he's protecting her. He's been protecting her, her whole life from the truth of who she is and why it matters. He was willing to work with me to protect her. Now, that's all in jeopardy. That's what we need to fix," Red replied firmly.

"So he knows…that you're not…" Ressler still struggled to process the barrage of information.

"Yes," Red replied simply. "He knew who the real Raymond Reddington was and he knows who I am. He's gone along with this little charade for over three decades because he knew it was for Elizabeth's benefit." Red signaled for the flight attendant who refilled Red's whiskey glass and brought more water for Ressler.

"And by asking questions about him, and his connection to Reddington, we've exposed him. And by extension, Liz," Ressler said slowly.

"Yes," Red agreed. "I tried to slow you down by keeping you busy with the Task Force. But it didn't work."

""You had us busy for a few weeks in the middle of all this," Ressler agreed. "I wasn't so sure there was any particular reason for that but Liz suspected maybe you knew. I guess she was right. So you knew what we were up to pretty much right as we got started. Why didn't you just talk to Liz and put a stop to it then? Why let us continue at all if it was putting her in danger?"

"Because nothing short of the complete truth would have deterred Elizabeth. I wasn't prepared to share that then."

"But you're prepared to do it now?" Ressler asked skeptically. "Why now, suddenly? What's changed?"

"We'll get to that," Red replied. "Circumstances have changed. That's where this mission comes into play."

"Is this the part where you tell me what's in Prague? Why I'm here with you instead of Liz?"

Red nodded slowly. "You're here because I need your badge."

"My badge?" Ressler asked incredulously. "You want me to arrest someone? I don't have jurisidiction…"

"No, I don't want you to arrest anyone. I want you to meet a source. Someone who has important information about Raymond Reddington."

"Why me? Why do you need my badge?" Ressler asked. "Surely you have other ways of getting information…"

"I do," Red agreed. "But in this case, this source will only provide the information to a legitimate American law enforcement officer. Who better than the fresh-faced FBI agent who's been the face of the manhunt against Raymond Reddington for over a decade? The agent who was supposed to take Reddington out in Brussels and failed."

"Brussels," Ressler said flatly. "You know that op was illegal."

"I do, Donald. I know it was a clandestine assassination attempt performed on orders of the CIA. The FBI was simply providing cover. And I know you refused the order, at no small personal risk to yourself, because your conscience wouldn't permit you to assassinate even one of the FBI's Most Wanted in cold blood. There's no way you could possibly have missed that shot except on purpose. I know you better than that."

Ressler licked his lips and looked away. He and Red had never spoken of the details of the Brussels mission before. Red had acknowledged that he knew about the mission when they were trapped in the box together, but both of them had let it go after that. Now it seemed they were going to confront it. "It was an illegal order," he said finally.

"Yes, it was," Red agreed. "Most agents wouldn't have questioned it, however."

"I guess I'm not most agents," Ressler replied.

"I know you sat down with Adam Burns at the CIA to try to ferret out what the CIA knows about Oleander," Red continued. "But why do you think the CIA was interested in assassinating Raymond Reddington in the first place?"

"Because of Katarina Rostova?" Ressler asked.

Red shook his head. "No. Because of me."

"You?"

Red glanced at his watch. "We're going to be landing very shortly so we'll have to continue this at our hotel." He looked up at Ressler before continuing, "I'm sure Elizabeth is concerned about your absence. I think we should call her when we land and let her know that everything's fine and she needs to stay put. But in order to do that, I need to know, Donald, are you prepared to cooperate? Have I told you enough thus far that you're willing to listen to the rest? Because this won't work unless I have your word that you're going not to go behind my back and tell Elizabeth where we are or worse, try to escape. Can you give me your word, Donald?"

Ressler took a deep breath. "Yes," he replied.

* * *

"Keen, take Aram and go pay another visit to this Wilkinson," Cooper ordered. "Find out exactly what he told Reddington and why. That may help us figure out where Reddington has gone."

"Yes, Sir."

Aram was unusually quiet as they set out for Pennsylvania with Liz driving. Liz was grateful for the silence as she reviewed in her mind all the things Wilkinson had said on her last visit. Eventually, Aram cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something?" he said hesitantly.

"Of course. What?"

Aram cleared his throat again. "How come you only told Ressler about Mr. Reddington? Don't you trust the rest of us?"

Liz glanced at Aram and sighed. It was hard to explain her reasoning without offending him. "It wasn't personal, Aram. I chose Ressler because he had the most history with Reddington and he's able to be in the field with me. I was afraid Reddington would find out what I was up to that much faster if everyone knew I was investigating him."

Aram nodded silently. She could see he still looked hurt. "So he's not really your father, after all," Aram continued. "That's really messed up."

Liz stifled a laugh. "That's putting it mildly," she agreed.

Liz parked the car and they knocked on the door of Dom's house. Once more, Liz heard feet shuffling on the other side of the door, a pause, and then the door swung open. Dom looked startled to see Aram next to Liz and he narrowed his eyes.

"Back again, so soon, Agent Keen? I see you've brought a different friend."

"This is Agent Mojtabai. But I think you know that already," Liz replied. She pushed past Wilkinson into the house and pulled a photograph of Red out of her jacket.

"I don't have time to play games this time, Mr. Wilkinson. I need to know exactly what you told Reddington about my visit here with Agent Ressler, and why," Liz demanded. "And don't tell me you don't know exactly who I mean because Agent Mojtabai here paid him a visit at your house a few years back. Back when Reddington thought I was dead."

The old man's eyes flashed as he sank into a nearby chair. "I wish I could, Masha, but I have made promises that I cannot break. Even for you."

Liz felt tears well up in her eyes as she clenched her hand into a fist. She stepped closer to the old man, and could barely restrain herself from attacking him.

"I don't think you understand," Liz hissed. "I know Reddington came to see you recently. Reddington kidnapped my partner, Agent Ressler, last night because of what you told him about our visit. I've already lost my husband and so many others because of Reddington's secret. I will not lose my partner too. So I am not leaving here until you tell me everything you know."

The old man looked up at her and smiled faintly. "You remind me of your mother when you're angry," he said simply.

Liz bit her lip and exhaled loudly. "You speak of her like you knew her well. Not just someone you saw at the office. Who was she to you? Who am I to you? Somehow it feels like all of it's connected but I don't understand how. Please - if you ever cared for my mother, tell me what you know!" Aram put a hand on Liz's sleeve to steady her.

Dom frowned and shook his head. "Raymond won't hurt your young man," he said slowly. "He needed him to help eliminate a threat. A threat against you. Raymond is going to use your partner to draw out a source, collect information, then they will return home."

"What kind of a threat? Where did he take him?" Liz demanded. "I know it wasn't Latin America like he told my boss."

Dom shook his head. "I don't know the details, my dear. I'm sorry. They were going to Europe. That is all I know."

Liz turned and blinked at Aram. "The other side of the world. What the hell is Reddington up to?"

"He won't hurt your partner," Dom repeated. "His intentions are good, Masha. Be patient. He will come back and then maybe the three of us - you, me, and Raymond - can finally sit together."

"I wish I believed that," Liz whispered.

"Liz, let's get back to D.C.," Aram said quietly. He glanced at Dom. "I don't think there's more we can do here." Liz nodded and allowed Aram to steer her out of the house.

Aram led her to the passenger side of the SUV and opened the door for her before climbing into the driver's seat. He could see that Liz was too emotional to drive.

"Wilkinson sounded sincere," Aram said reassuringly. "Ressler's going to be fine. I mean, he would have been anyway. Mr. Reddington would never hurt him."

"Maybe not," Liz replied slowly. "But how can I be sure that what they're doing isn't risky? Everyone who's come near this secret has died, Aram."

Just then, Liz's phone rang and an unfamiliar number flashed on the screen. Liz swallowed hard. "Keen," she managed.

"Elizabeth!" Red replied cheerfully on the other end of the line.

Liz sat up straight and exchanged looks with Aram who had heard Reddington's unmistakable voice through the phone.

"Where are you? What have you done with Ressler?"

"Donald's here and he's just fine, Elizabeth. I'll let him tell you that himself. Hold on."

"Liz?" Ressler's voice came through the phone.

Tears welled up in Liz's eyes as she gripped the phone harder in relief. "Where are you? What did Reddington do?"

"Liz, I'm fine," Ressler reassured her. "He abducted me," Ressler glared at Reddington, "but it's ok now. We just have something we need to take care of and then we're coming home. I promise."

"But what is it? Why won't you tell me?" Liz pleaded.

Ressler licked his lips and glanced at Reddington. He could hear the emotion in her voice and it pained him. "Do you trust me, Liz?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I do," Liz replied. "But I don't trust Reddington not to put you in danger. You need to tell me where you are."

Ressler swallowed hard. The conversation was even harder than he'd imagined. "I will, but I can't right now. Look - the last thing I want to do is keep things from you. But Reddington's convinced me that I have to do that just until we get back. And then we - both of us - you're gonna hear everything, Liz."

"That's essentially the same thing Dom Wilkinson just told me," Liz replied emotionally. "What is going on?"

"You went to see Wilkinson again?" Ressler asked as he flicked his eyes towards Red who shrugged.

"Yes. Aram made a connection between him and Reddington. They know each other."

"I know," Ressler replied softly. "He told me. Liz - you gotta trust me on this. We'll be back in a day or so and then no more secrets. But you have to let us do this first. Call off the hunt and wait. I know it's hard."

"You have no idea how hard," Liz replied bitterly. "But - ok. Put Reddington back on, would you? And be careful."

"I will," Ressler replied as he handed the phone back to Reddington.

"Elizabeth, I know this is difficult and I'm sorry it has to be this way. But I promise you, we will both be back soon and I will tell you why things had to be this way," Red said evenly.

"You better keep that promise," Liz replied angrily. "Because you're out of second chances. If anything happens to him, I'm holding you personally responsible."

"I understand. We'll be in touch when it's done," Reddington hung up the phone. Liz dropped her phone into her lap and closed her eyes.

"So what now?" Aram asked.

"Now we go back and tell Cooper about this mess," Liz replied wearily.


	8. Adam

_Two weeks earlier_

"They are spending a lot of time together, Raymond," Dembe observed as they sat in Red's car parked down the street from Ressler's apartment. It was the fourth night in a row that week that Liz and Ressler had met up after work at one of their apartments and stayed until nearly midnight. They'd also spent the bulk of the prior weekend together. "Do you think there is more to it than just their investigation?"

Red pursed his lips from the backseat. "I don't know. Perhaps. On his part, I think there's always been something there. On hers, I can't be sure. I'd feel better about this if I thought that was why they were suddenly spending all this time together. But I have a feeling it's because they're continuing to poke their noses where they shouldn't."

"Whatever it is, they are drawing closer to the truth, my friend. Are you prepared for that?" Dembe glanced at Red in the rearview mirror.

"I'll never be prepared," Red replied. "But I suppose it's inevitable."

* * *

Liz sat on the floor of Ressler's living room, surrounded by containers of Chinese takeout and piles of folders. They'd decided to use the time while Ressler was waiting to hear back from Adam to pore over the files from the years that Ressler's former Task Force had hunted Reddington. They were poring over names, dates, and locations to see if some sort of pattern emerged.

"Other than a handful of trips to Asia, it really seems like the focus of Reddington's operations was Europe," Liz mused as she flipped through a file. "Eastern Europe and Russia, specifically. Why do you think that was?"

Ressler leaned over her shoulder to get a closer look at the file. "Growing markets, maybe? Room for black market operations?"

"Maybe," Liz murmured. "Or maybe something else."

"What are you thinking?" Ressler asked. He was close enough that Liz could feel his breath on her neck.

"I don't know," Liz replied slowly. "We still don't know exactly how he met my mother. Maybe he was stationed overseas in some capacity? Maybe Eastern Europe was his base of operations that he was familiar with?" Liz shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, I'm getting a crick in my neck," she complained as she sat up and stretched.

"You think our Red was foreign intelligence even if he wasn't in the Navy?" Ressler asked. He moved behind Liz on his knees and quietly set to work on massaging her shoulders and neck.

"Yes. No. I don't know. I can't think anymore, but that feels nice," Liz breathed as she closed her eyes and hung her head and gave herself over to Ressler's ministrations. His hands were strong as he moved his thumbs against the knotted muscles of her shoulder and neck. He continued to rub her upper back and neck for a long while in silence until finally he stopped and rested his hands lightly on her upper arms.

"Better?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, much," Liz replied. She turned and smiled at him and Ressler caught his breath at how deep blue her eyes looked in the lamplight. Ressler slowly got up and extended a hand and helped her to her feet.

"Maybe we should sit at the table next time," he said with a soft smile.

"I'm not going to complain about the floor if I get a neck rub out of it," Liz replied with a laugh and her eyes sparkled.

Ressler couldn't help but grin. "Anytime."

Liz glanced at her watch and her expression became more somber. "It's getting really late, though, and we have work tomorrow. I should probably go."

"Yeah," Ressler agreed reluctantly. Liz collected her things and he walked her to the door.

"See you tomorrow," he said quietly. Liz held his gaze for a moment and, before he knew it, leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow," she whispered. "Thank you." She turned and quickly made her way to the stairs before he could react.

As he closed the door, Ressler held his hand against his cheek. _What just happened?_ he thought.

* * *

The next day, Ressler finally heard from Adam. "We need to meet in person," Adam said firmly. "I think I've got something for you, but I don't want to discuss it on the phone. Meet me in Rock Creek Park by the big fountain today at 2:00."

Liz met his eyes as he hung up the phone and raised her eyebrows. "Looks like I have an appointment at 2 today," Ressler said. "Cover for me with Cooper, ok? Tell him I had to go to the dentist or something." Liz nodded. She felt a small shiver of excitement. Maybe they would finally get somewhere.

The park was dotted with mothers and children when Ressler arrived at the fountain at 2:00. He glanced at his watch. Adam was nowhere to be seen. By 2:10, Ressler was growing concerned. He jumped when suddenly a familiar voice came from behind him. "Sorry I'm late, had to make sure I wasn't followed."

"Jesus, you scared me," Ressler admitted as he glanced at Adam. "You know, just because you're a spook doesn't mean you need to act like one. Who would follow you to a park in the middle of the day?"

"Let's walk," Adam said as he glanced around at the crowd.

"What's going on?" Ressler asked, concerned. "You seem uptight even for you."

Adam glared at him. "Your little investigation wasn't as simple as you might think," he replied. "You have any idea how many layers of classification are on the file of that guy Oleander? You wouldn't believe what I had to do to get a look at it."

"But you did get a look at it, right?" Ressler asked.

"What do you think?" Adam scowled. "I didn't ask you to meet me here for my health."

"So what've you got?"

Adam looked at him and took a deep breath. "Oleander was a top level KGB spymaster in the day. He had his finger in a whole lot of pies. But that's not why the CIA cares about him."

"So what's the real reason?"

"Oleander was also a top level informant for the CIA back in the late 1980s. Provided enormous amounts of invaluable classified information about Russian operations. Suddenly, in 1990, he goes dark. Vanishes. The man hasn't been seen or heard from since. Lots of people at Langley would like to know why."

"Who was his handler?" Ressler asked. It seemed far from a coincidence that Oleander vanished the same year as Reddington.

"I don't know," Adam admitted. "That information was buried so deep even I couldn't worm my way to it."

"Any evidence of a connection between him and Reddington?" Ressler pressed.

"None that I could find," Adam admitted. "Other than that they both may have been in Russia in some of the same years. But so were a lot of people."

Ressler shook his head. "I feel like the connection has to be there somehow. Let me know if you hear anything else."

"There is something else," Adam added as he glanced around nervously. "A day after I started looking into a possible connection between Reddington and Oleander? Suddenly my computer started having issues. I came home and found my apartment mysteriously unlocked. Nothing missing but - I don't think it's a coincidence."

Ressler stopped and stared and Adam. "What are you saying?"

Adam licked his lips. "I'm saying that somebody seemed to know that what I was digging into. It sure felt like they were sending me a message not to."

Ressler clapped Adam on the shoulder and shook his hand. "Thanks for doing this, man, I really appreciate it. I'll let you know if we uncover anything."

Adam nodded. "We're even now, right? I paid my debt?"

Ressler nodded in acknowledgment and watched as Adam turned and walked away through the trees.

* * *

"So what do you think it all means?" Liz asked that evening. She was stretched out on her couch as Ressler sat across from her in an armchair.

"I don't know," Ressler admitted. "But it can't be a coincidence that this Oleander vanished the same year as Reddington."

"Do you think Reddington was his handler?" Liz asked. "Or maybe he met him somehow through my mother and that was the connection?"

"I don't know but - Adam seemed really nervous. I don't like it, Liz. I feel like maybe we're starting to walk in dangerous waters. If the CIA is involved…" Ressler's voice trailed off.

Liz sat up on the couch. "I hadn't thought about it in a long time but - the Director. He told me the day I played him the fulcrum that he never noticed before how much I look like my mother."

Ressler frowned. "Your mother? The Director knew what your mother looked like?"

Liz nodded slowly. "Yes, he did. Or he claimed he did."

"I don't know why he'd lie about that," Ressler mused. "Unfortunately we can't ask him what he knew, thanks to Reddington. But if he knew your mother, then your mother was known in some way to the CIA or the Cabal. Has to be one or the other."

A slow smile spread across Liz's face. "I feel like we're finally getting somewhere," she breathed.

* * *

"This is the man Ressler met today," Dembe said as he handed Red a photograph. Once again they were parked down the street, this time from Liz's apartment. "We were able to identify him as Adam Burns, a CIA analyst at Langley."

Red shook his head and tossed the photo on the seat next to him in frustration. "They've made the CIA connection more quickly than I expected." Red rubbed his head across his forehead.

"Maybe they are only inquiring about Oleander?" Dembe offered. "Maybe they have not connected the dots yet."

"Maybe," Red agreed, "but it's only a matter of time until they do. Or until someone else does because they've been poking around. Mobilize our people in Europe. I want everyone's ears to the ground. The first whiff that anyone has connected Raymond Reddington and Oleander, I need to know about it."


	9. Prague

_Present day_

"Liz sounds miserable," Ressler said as he watched Red pocket the phone. "I hope I'm doing the right thing by going along with your little plan. So, we're here. Now what?"

Red inhaled deeply and smiled. "First, we'll get settled at our hotel, then we'll grab a bite to eat. I'll finish filling you in on what you need to know, and then we'll call it a night. Tomorrow, our work begins."

"You still haven't told me your connection to Reddington, what your role was in all of this. Let alone why we're here," Ressler remarked irritably.

Red nodded in agreement. "All in due time, Donald, all in due time. Come, it's been a long trip." Red gestured towards a waiting car. Dembe slid into the front seat beside the driver and Red and Ressler sat in the back.

Red was largely silent on the way to the hotel, except for some light conversation with the driver, who spoke little English. Ressler understood that any further explanations would have to wait until they were alone again. He glanced out the window at the scenery as they drove noting, as they drew closer to the city, the mixture of opulent pre-war architecture interspersed with nondescript Communist-era structures.

Red had booked a three bedroom suite, each with its own en suite bathroom, in a lavish hotel in Old Town with a view of the river. Dembe handed Ressler a small black suitcase.

"What's this?" Ressler asked.

"I took the liberty of packing a few things for you, Donald," Red replied. "I didn't think you'd want to have to wear the same clothes for days on end."

"You went through my drawers after you drugged me and packed my clothes?" Ressler asked incredulously.

"Yes," Red replied simply. "And your bathroom cabinet too. Hopefully I didn't miss anything important. Now, go freshen up and we'll reconvene in an hour or so and go grab something to eat. I haven't had a decent plate of vepřo-knedlo-zelo in years. That and some good Czech beer - you're going to love it." Red clapped Ressler on the shoulder and disappeared into his room. Ressler met Dembe's eyes and swore he saw a flicker of amusement as he, too, disappeared into his room.

Alone in his room, Ressler walked over to the window and stared at the city below. He'd traveled all over Europe during his years chasing Red, but Prague had not been among the destinations they'd visited. The city had a charming old world feel. Ressler might actually have enjoyed it if he'd come with Liz to hunt a Blacklister instead of doing God knows what with Red.

With a sigh, he heaved the suitcase up on to the bed and examined its contents. Reddington had been thorough, he had to give him that. He'd packed an assortment of casual and business attire. Ressler did his best to push the image of Reddington rummaging through his drawers out of his mind.

Ressler grabbed some fresh clothes and stepped into the bathroom to take a shower. The warm spray was soothing but also made him realize just how tired he was, both mentally and physically. His little drug-induced nap on the plane hadn't been nearly enough sleep and his mind was reeling from all that he had learned from Reddington so far. Decorated Navy officer Raymond Reddington was a Soviet plant? A spy? Dom Wilkinson was the notorious Soviet operative Oleander and Liz's grandfather to boot? Never mind a former high level informant for the CIA? Looking back, he realized now what had unsettled him about the old man. It was his eyes. They were so very much like Liz's. And finally, KGB agent Katerina Rostova - also a double agent working for the CIA. Ressler couldn't begin to imagine how all those threads had come together.

* * *

An hour later, and feeling somewhat revived by the shower and fresh clothes, Ressler headed out with Red and Dembe for dinner. Ressler wasn't in the least surprised that Red's restaurant of choice was a tiny hole in the wall in Old Town near the castle with a smattering of dimly lit tables. Red ordered his vepřo-knedlo-zelo and Ressler followed suit, trusting the man's judgment in matters of food. A smiling waitress returned in short order with three large mugs of beer to go along with the meal.

"So, are you gonna tell me the rest of the story?" Ressler asked as the waitress disappeared.

Red lifted his beer glass and took a sip. "As much of it as you need to know," he replied. "Ah, that's good," Red smacked his lips appreciatively. "People rave about German beer but the Czech beer is simply delicious. Anyway, where were we?"

"You were getting to the part where you tell me how you're connected to Reddington, Oleander and Katarina," Ressler replied as he folded his arms. This was the part of the story that he was most interested in.

Red nodded in acknowledgment as he speared a bite of meat. "I was much like you, once, Donald," Red began. "Diligent, eager, ready to lay it all on the line for my country. I never cared about the rules quite as much as you do, but that worked to my benefit. I think you know by now I was never a Navy man?"

Ressler nodded. "We suspected that," he replied as he took another sip of his beer. It really was good.

Red chuckled. "I was never one to enjoy the idea of spending months on end in cramped quarters trapped with the same group of men," he agreed. "So I chose the CIA. I was enamored with tales of spies. There was a romance to it. Anyway, I had a facility for language and got myself to the point I was fluent in Russian. Could speak it just about like a native. So they posted me to Moscow, ostensibly to work an administrative job at the Embassy. But in reality, I was there to handle high level assets."

"Like Oleander," Ressler interjected.

"Yes," Red agreed. "I wasn't the one who turned Oleander to the American side, though. That was Fitch."

"Alan Fitch?" Ressler asked incredulously. "He was a spy runner?"

"One of the best of the best," Red replied. "But Fitch was interested in politics also. He'd had enough of overseas life. So I was brought in as his replacement. Dom - Oleander - was himself a spymaster. For the Soviets, of course. And a genius one, at that. But, he became disillusioned after his wife became ill and died because of Soviet bureaucracy. He decided to use his access to undermine the people that he blamed for her death. And so, he and Fitch connected. Got along very well by all reports. When Fitch returned to Washington, I took over with Oleander. It was my job to meet with him regularly in Moscow and retrieve his reports and transmit them back to Washington. Eventually, I also returned to duty primarily in Washington but I continued to meet with Dom in Moscow and elsewhere in Europe as we could manage to obtain his information. He had little interest in working with anyone else."

"How does Katarina fit into all of this?" Ressler asked.

"Katarina was trained by her father in the art of spy craft from a very young age, long before her mother died. And she rose quickly through the ranks of the KGB. She was brilliant but also beautiful and that served her well in seducing foreigners as occasion demanded."

"She was a honeytrap?" Ressler asked incredulously.

"That's a crude term for it," Red replied with a scowl. "Back in the day they called them Sparrows. And she was a highly sought after operative."

"Did she know her father had turned?"

Red nodded. "Eventually, he told her. She was reluctant at first to come on board, but eventually she started to see the same flaws in the system that her father had seen before her. Dom introduced us and I was instantly captivated. She was such a magnificent creature." Red shook his head and took a large sip of his beer.

"Were you in love with her?" Ressler asked.

Red stared at him for a minute and then looked away. "I don't know how to answer that," he replied finally. "She was exciting - thrilling - and there were times when things perhaps went further than they should have. But she was married and so was I. It was never more than a dalliance."

"So what about Reddington? How did you and she get involved with him?"

"Dom learned of the program that had planted Reddington in the United States. Then, fortuitously, Reddington was posted to Moscow as part of his job with Naval Intelligence. We saw it as an opportunity to try to turn him in order to gain information on the program, how it worked, and what other dormant operatives might be present in the United States. I was very ambitious back then, you see. I thought exposing him - exposing the program - would be the key to my success at the CIA."

"So you had Katarina seduce him?" Ressler asked.

Red sighed. "Dom was adamantly opposed when I first suggested the idea. He knew the work that Katarina did for the KGB and supported it, and he knew the information she provided to the CIA and supported it, but he thought it was a step too far to have her actually perform a long term operation on behalf of the CIA and get involved with Reddington. She was his daughter. She was married with a husband who gave her access to important social circles. One misstep and Dom and Katarina might both be exposed, tortured, and killed. I was cocky. I convinced him - convinced them - over time that we could manage the risk."

"And you were wrong," Ressler said quietly.

"In more ways than one," Red admitted. "I never expected Katarina and Reddington to actually fall in love, but they did. Katarina was usually so controlled, so aware of the ramifications of her actions. But Reddington - I don't know what it was about him. The sense of mystery, the danger of seducing a fellow spy, but she fell for him and she fell hard. And it was mutual. They were both married but they seized every opportunity they could to be together, both in Moscow and in Washington and even up in Nova Scotia at the Summer Palace."

"How did Dom react to all of this?" Ressler asked.

"He was livid, as you might expect. At me for creating the situation and at Katarina for taking things to the next level. He begged her to break it off. Begged me to force them to break it off. But, the next thing we knew, she was pregnant with Reddington's child."

"Liz."

"Yes. Katarina knew then that she had made a terrible mistake. Especially before we knew it was a girl in light of the genetic issues in her husband's family. But she wanted to keep the child. She couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. And she felt she could pass her off as her husband's. But as Elizabeth - or Masha as she was then known - grew older, it became more and more risky for Katarina and she to spend time with Reddington. Children talk. Katarina couldn't risk Elizabeth exposing her relationship with Reddington. So, she tried to break it off."

"How did Reddington react?" Ressler asked.

"Not well," Red replied. "He was in a largely loveless marriage. He convinced himself that he'd be happier with Katarina. They argued endlessly about it. Then, someone in the KGB got wind that Reddington was involved with a Russian woman. A whisper of an affair. They couldn't have that after all they had invested into crafting the perfect planted spy. He was supposed to have an American wife and rise through the ranks of the Navy, not throw it all away for an affair with a Soviet woman. So the spetsnaz abducted him, tortured him, and threatened him if he didn't get his life back on track. I think Reddington realized then the danger he was in, and that Katarina and Masha were in, if their relationship fully came to light."

"So what did he do?"

"Reddington decided that he wanted to embrace his fake American identity in whole. Abandon the mission that he had been trained for since birth, and live his life as a Navy officer in America without further involvement with the Soviet Union. But he also knew from his encounter with the spetsnaz that he would need leverage, American protection, in order to make that happen. And so he began a plot to ingratiate himself with powerful people. People who could offer him that protection."

"The Cabal?" Ressler asked.

Red nodded. "Among others. Katarina was beside herself when she learned of his plans. He didn't know she was a KGB agent, much less a double agent for the CIA. He had no idea the risk that he was bringing down on her, and Dom, by going behind their backs in that fashion. But Reddington was headstrong, always thought he knew better. Eventually, when we learned of Reddington's involvement with the Cabal, I finally convinced Katarina to break it off with him. And so she did."

"But Liz was at some point with her father, right? Before the fire?" Ressler asked.

Red exhaled. "Yes. When Katarina broke things off, neither of us realized quite how volatile Reddington would be. Elizabeth knew him - she'd spent enough time with him over the years - he took her from preschool in Nova Scotia and brought her back to Washington. Katarina was frantic, but at the same time she still loved him. It took a little time but she decided she was willing to risk everything, leave the KGB, leave her husband, in order to make a new life with the man. Along the way, I learned that apparently infiltrating the Cabal wasn't enough for him. Reddington had decided to play all sides and had also brokered a deal with another shadowy clandestine organization that competed with the Cabal. He stole a blackmail file from the Cabal in order to increase his leverage with that other group."

"The fulcrum, right?" Ressler asked.

"Yes," Red replied. "Katarina told her father she was leaving for America. Permanently. Dom was furious. He asked me to talk her out of it. He still blamed me for getting her involved with Reddington in the first place. I convinced him we could manage it. We'd retrieve the fulcrum, make peace with the Cabal, and try between the Cabal and the CIA to broker protection for Reddington and Katarina to live in witness protection with Elizabeth in the United States."

"But something went wrong?" Ressler asked.

"Everything went wrong. Katarina and I met with Reddington. His wife and daughter didn't even know he was in Washington at the time. We sat him down and explained to him about Katarina's KGB and CIA connections. Why it was critical for him to return the fulcrum to the Cabal so that we could broker peace. Reddington was furious at first, livid with Katarina for setting out to betray him. I tried to convince him that we could relocate them together, under new identities. He didn't want to hear it."

"Why not? That seems like that would have been the perfect option."

Red shrugged. "He had another child with his wife and he was unwilling to give her up altogether and disappear in the way that would have been required. He wanted to live the life he had been groomed for as a Naval officer. Like I said, he was headstrong and always thought he knew better. I convinced Katarina that we had to steal the fulcrum if he wouldn't give it up voluntarily. But I was still concerned with getting Reddington out of her life. Unbeknownst to Katarina, I told my superiors about who Reddington really was without mentioning his connection to her. I thought the CIA would investigate him, eventually arrest him, which would separate them. I never imagined how far they'd actually go."

"Liz said there was a fire?"

"Yes. The night that Katarina and I attempted to retrieve the fulcrum. Reddington was furious. They argued - loudly. What we didn't know was that Reddington had been targeted for assassination that night. Next thing we knew, the entire house was on fire."

"And somewhere in this, Liz shot her father?"

Red grimaced. "Her parents were arguing. Things got physical. I had dropped my gun trying to separate them. I was fighting with Reddington. And next thing, he collapsed on the floor in front of me. I dragged him out of the burning house, but there was nothing that could be done. He died that night from his wounds. Katarina was bereft. She managed to get Elizabeth out of the house and away from the scene, but she was never the same. We hid Reddington's body so that no one would discover who had been at the house. By the time the firemen came, the house was empty and no one was able to identify the tenant."

"None of this explains why — if Reddington died that night — you decided to take the man's identity," Ressler noted.

"No, you're right," Red agreed. "It doesn't."

Ressler fingered his fork. "So are you going to tell me that part?"

Red sat quietly for a few minutes with a faraway look in his eyes. "Katarina and I didn't realize how deeply the Cabal - and their competitors - had permeated the CIA. Some weeks after the fire, I came home and…" Red's voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. "My family. Someone sent me an unmistakable message. My identity - my very existence - was erased as if it never existed in the first place. I was supposed to be dead along with them but someone got impatient and didn't wait around to finish the job. Part of me wishes they had. I wasn't lying to you all those years ago when I told you I understood the pain you felt when Audrey was killed. I lost my family - and myself - in the process."

Ressler nodded in quiet acknowledgment as they sat in silence. Eventually, Red cleared his throat and continued, "Katarina and I realized then that someone, somehow had connected all of us and that the fire was intended to kill Reddington. We met with Reddington's wife, Carla. We convinced her that the only way to protect her was for the world to believe that Reddington had disappeared, but was still alive, and for her to go into witness protection. And so we staged that. In the meantime, we ensured Elizabeth was safe with Sam, who was an old friend. A place no one would think to look."

"And then Liz's mother killed herself?" Ressler asked.

Red shrugged. "To the outside world, that's how it seemed. Personally, I still find it difficult to believe. But I haven't been able to disprove it all these years either. Her body was never found. If she's alive, I don't know where she is. That left only me."

"I still don't understand why you took on Reddington's identity? Why not let the world continue to believe he had simply disappeared?" Ressler asked. "Why turn him into a criminal?"

Red inhaled sharply. "He already was a criminal, Donald. Let's be clear about that. I think that part of the story is probably best saved for Elizabeth to hear first, but I'll say this much. Some very powerful people tried to assassinate Reddington that night. Weeks later, they murdered my family and would have killed me if I had gotten home on time. Everything I did, I did because I believed it was in her best interests. It was never to hurt her. Quite the opposite, actually. She was protected because Raymond Reddington - and the secrets he held - was believed to be alive and a powerful man. If anyone had known the truth, she would have been at risk."

"So why are we here? Why have you spent the past day telling me all of this instead of her? What's in Prague?"

"As I told you before, there's an informant. An informant who I believe has critical information concerning what Raymond Reddington was really up to in the weeks and months before he died and who tried to kill him. Information concerning what he knew and about whom. Once we have that information, I can tell Elizabeth all of this and we can work together - Elizabeth, Harold and the others, you - we can try to put the genie back in the bottle and ensure Elizabeth's safety once and for all."

"So Raymond Reddington really was a traitor. But you weren't," Ressler said quietly.

"I never set out to betray America," Red replied bitterly. "But in a way, America betrayed me."

"And what makes you think that anyone alive still cares about all of this?" Ressler asked.

"Because you were given illegal orders to assassinate Raymond Reddington again in 2008. I knew then that, despite everything, the threat was still out there and still real. Not long after that, Berlin began targeting my operations and eventually, Tom entered Elizabeth's life. The vultures were circling once more."

"What was your real name? Before all this happened?" Ressler asked.

Red smiled faintly. "I'll tell you someday," he replied softly.


	10. Raymond Reddington

_Present Day_

Ressler slept fitfully that night. He couldn't push Red's story out of his head enough to quiet his mind. He was now questioning everything he had come to believe about the man over the years. He was also worried about Liz. He hoped she had taken him at his word and was waiting for them back in Washington and not making further efforts to track them down. By the time the first rays of sun permeated his room, Ressler was showered, shaved and dressed and ready to hit the streets.

He emerged from his room to find that Red and Dembe had also risen early.

"Did you sleep well, Donald?" Red asked.

"What do you think?" Ressler grumbled. "Let's get this over with so we can get back to Washington and you can start telling Liz your stories instead of me."

Red nodded. "We're going to have breakfast with an associate of mine. When I learned two weeks ago that you and Elizabeth had begun making inquiries about a possible connection between Reddington and Oleander with the CIA, I reached out to all of my associates in Europe and asked them to keep an ear out for any whispers or rumblings of relevant information. Three days ago, Tomáš made contact and told me that a woman had come into the U.S. Embassy in Prague and asked for an American agent to come see her about Raymond Reddington.

"And how did Tomáš hear about this?" Ressler asked.

"He works at the Embassy," Red replied.

"So that's where I come in? I'm the American agent?" Ressler asked.

"Yes," Red replied.

When they exited the hotel, Ressler was surprised to see Red flag down an ordinary taxi. In all his years traveling with Red, Red normally traveled by chauffeured car service. He was even more surprised when Red directed the taxi to take them to a metro station a mile or so away from the hotel. When they arrived at the metro station, Dembe purchased the necessary tickets. As they stood on the platform, Ressler turned to Red.

"What's with the taxi? And the public transit? This isn't how you usually travel."

Red smirked. "It's been a long time, Donald, but my training is still there. You never meet an asset unless you're black."

"Black?" Ressler asked.

"Free of tails. The only way to get black is to change up your route, follow different patterns, do the unexpected," Red replied with a gleam in his eye.

They exited the metro after three stops, took another taxi for another mile or two, hopped a bus for two stops, and then took a long circuitous path through a park before they finally ended up at a small cafe on the edge of the park. When they entered, they were greeted by a nondescript blonde man in a suit who embraced Red and kissed him on both cheeks.

"Tomáš, this is Special Agent Donald Ressler of the FBI. He's going to accompany you to meet with the woman who came forward," Red said.

Tomáš looked Ressler up and down. "He is legitimate? His background will check out?"

Red nodded. "Impeccably. Donald has been the face of the FBI's hunt for Raymond Reddington for many years."

Tomáš nodded. They refrained from further conversation until the waitress brought them coffee and assorted pastries and departed the table. Then, Tomáš leaned forward and said in a hushed voice.

"Just days after you asked me to keep my eyes and ears open, this woman came into the Embassy just before public hours ended. Fortunately, I was alone at the desk. She told me that her father is on his deathbed but has information he wants to pass to the Americans about Raymond Reddington before he dies. I knew because of what you said, that was no coincidence."

"So you think someone sent the woman in - do you think she really has a father who knows anything?" Ressler asked. "Were you able to get any background on her?"

Tomáš shrugged slightly. "A little bit. I was able to verify the name, and that she does have a sick father. But whether she or the father really know anything or whether they were sent to make that claim, is anyone's guess. That's where you come in."

"And you'll accompany him, Tomáš? As the Embassy representative?" Red asked.

"Yes. He will need a translator, perhaps. Regardless, I will be there so we have two sets of eyes and ears on whatever happens."

"And where will the meeting be?" Red asked.

"At the woman's apartment." Tomáš glanced at his watch. "In three hours. In the meantime, Agent Ressler, it's time to make your arrival in Prague a little more legitimate."

Ressler arched an eyebrow as Red grinned and rose from the table and once again kissed Tomáš on both cheeks. "Thank you my friend," Red said warmly. "Please give Adina my best." Tomáš nodded in acknowledgment and he and Ressler watched as Red and Dembe exited the cafe. Ressler had little doubt that they would follow an equally circuitous route back to their hotel. As the door of the cafe closed behind them, Ressler turned to Tomáš.

"So, how do we make my arrival in Prague seem more legitimate?"

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Aram asked as he hovered in the doorway of Liz's office. Liz glanced up from her half-eaten bagel and untouched cup of coffee.

"Not good," she admitted.

Aram gave her a sympathetic smile and came in and shut the door.

"Any further word from Agent Ressler or Mr. Reddington?" he asked. Liz shook her head.

"Did you sleep?" Aram asked tentatively. Liz shook her head again.

"Not really," she admitted. "I just — I kept turning over and over in my mind what I should do. Should I continue trying to find them? Hunt them down, join them? If I slept a full hour I'm lucky."

"Ressler wouldn't lie to you," Aram said quietly. "If he said to stand down and stay put, I believe him."

Liz gave Aram a wry smile. "That's exactly what I said to myself in the end. We promised each other at the beginning of all this to trust each other like partners should. He didn't sound like he was under duress. So, I have to believe him."

"I'm glad you're worried about him, though," Aram replied.

"What do you mean?"

Aram looked uncomfortable. "I mean - don't take this the wrong way, please, but sometimes it seems like you care more about getting answers about your past than what happens to any of us while you're trying to get them," Aram said slowly. "I understand why. I kind of do, anyway," he added hastily. "But - I'm glad you care that Ressler was potentially in trouble and that you wanted to do something about it."

Liz was speechless and she felt tears prick her eyes. "Aram - I honestly hope you and Samar and Cooper and Ressler too all know that I do love all of you and that nothing I might learn at this point is worth anything happening to any of you."

Aram hung his head sheepishly. "I guess deep down we do know that, but it's still good to hear," he admitted. "Keep me posted, ok? If you hear anything?"

Liz nodded. "I will."

* * *

Two hours later, Ressler had followed a circuitous route with Tomáš to the airport, back to a different hotel where he checked in with an empty suitcase Tomáš provided, and had taken three different taxis and two forms of public transportation, and walked at least two miles on foot in a circuitous path before arriving, finally, at a nondescript apartment on the outskirts of the city.

"You sure this is the place?" Ressler asked as he glanced up at the unassuming building. He tugged at his tie, which suddenly felt like it was choking him after all the exertion.

Tomáš double checked the piece of paper he had stuffed in his suit jacket. "Yes, this is the address the woman gave me."

"Well, let's do this," Ressler replied as he settled his tie back in place and pressed the bell firmly.

They were greeted by a nervous looking young woman in her 30s, who ushered them into a simple kitchen. The table was covered with a colorful fabric cloth with a plastic cloth over it. Along one wall was a china closet filled with glassware and various tchotchkes. The counters were immaculate, but sparse.

"You are American? FBI?" the woman asked Ressler in tentative English. Ressler nodded, produced his card, and flashed his badge.

"Special Agent, Donald Ressler. I've been the lead case agent on Raymond Reddington for the past decade. I'm told you have information that may assist in our investigation?" Ressler watched as Tomáš translated his words for the woman. The woman nodded. "My father. He said he had things to say. But only to an American agent. He wanted CIA but you are FBI."

Tomáš and Ressler exchanged glances. "We work closely with the CIA," Ressler said reassuringly. "We'll share whatever information your father wants us to share."

Once more, the woman nodded nervously after Tomáš translated. "He is not well," she added by way of explanation.

Ressler and Tomáš followed the woman down the hall to a bedroom that was simply furnished with only one modest sized bed, a wood dresser with a mirror above it, and a large crucifix on the wall. In the bed was an elderly man who appeared to be at least in his late 70s, with an oxygen tank providing oxygen through a tube in his nose.

"Táta, this is the American agent you asked for," the woman said in Czech as she approached the bed and Tomáš whispered the translation.

The old man eyed Ressler and then nodded dismissively at his daughter, who quickly fled the room.

"I can translate for you," Tomáš said in Czech as they approached the bed.

"No need," the man replied crisply. "I speak English. You may leave," he said with a nod towards Tomáš. Tomáš looked nervously at Ressler. Ressler nodded slightly and Tomáš reluctantly left. As the door closed behind him, Ressler grabbed a chair and brought it closer to the bed.

"Special Agent Donald Ressler, FBI," he said in a low voice as he flashed his badge again. "I hear you have a story you want to tell me about Raymond Reddington." The old man's face spread slowly into a toothy grin.

* * *

"What happens if this lead does not pan out?" Dembe asked as they waited for Ressler in their hotel suite. "Will you still tell Elizabeth the truth?"

"I don't see how I have much choice at this point," Red admitted as he folded his newspaper with a sigh. "I've told Donald enough of it and I'm certainly not going to force her to hear it from him instead of me."

"You should have told her a long time ago. Before everything." Dembe said quietly.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I think perhaps now is exactly the right time. You and Kate may disagree with me on that but I think Elizabeth is ready to hear it now in a way she might not have been before."

"Perhaps. You won't lose her," Dembe replied, "of that I am certain."

Red sighed. "Kate told me that a very long time ago too. I didn't believe her then. Now? I'm not so sure."

"Ressler seems to be on board. That will help," Dembe said.

"I agree with you on that, my friend," Red replied.

* * *

"Nearly forty years ago," the old man began, "I was working as a laborer here in Prague. All sorts of construction. One night after work, I go to a bar. This beautiful woman with red hair approaches me. I was married already, had a baby at home, but I had never seen a more beautiful creature."

"Do you remember her name?" Ressler asked, already forming a mental image of Katarina Rostova from Liz's description in his mind.

"She did not say. She told me to call her Katja. I doubt very much that was actually her name," the old man smiled faintly. "She tells me she will pay me money to go to school, to learn English. She wanted me to work for her. I learned later, she wanted me to bug - is that how you say it?" Ressler nodded. "To bug buildings I was working on in Prague. For the Russians and later, I learned, for the Americans too. She paid me very well for many years and I did as she asked and I went to school and I learned the English."

Ressler nodded. He knew the old man had to be talking about Katarina from Red and Liz's descriptions. But he was curious as to what the connection was between her, the man, and Reddington.

"I saw her from time to time, here and there. She would give me particular instructions or devices that she wanted planted. She was so lovely. I never missed an opportunity to see her smile." The old man smiled wistfully and Ressler couldn't help but return the smile. In his mind, he was picturing Liz's smile.

"Anyway, the last time I saw her, she told me she was going away for a long time. She handed me an envelope with a name written on it. But she made sure I had an account. And that my payments continued."

"What was the name on the envelope?" Ressler asked, even though he felt he knew the answer before the old man said it.

The old man's lip curled slightly. "Raymond Reddington. She said I was to give the envelope only to him or to an American CIA agent. You are FBI, I know. That will have to be close enough."

Ressler frowned. "So you've had this envelope for how long?"

"Over thirty years," the man replied.

"So what made you seek out an American agent now?" Ressler asked skeptically. Something wasn't adding up.

The old man licked his lips before responding. "I am dying. I have cancer. I have weeks to live. Last week, my nephew - he works in the U.S. Embassy here in Prague. I told him a long time ago to tell me if he ever hears a mention of Katja or Raymond Reddington. Suddenly, all these years later, he tells me he hears people talking about Raymond Reddington at the Embassy. I remember my promise to Katja, and I send my daughter in there to tell them I need to see someone."

"And what does your nephew do at the Embassy?" Ressler asked.

"He is the janitor," the old man replied. "He cleans things."

Ressler stifled a grin. Only in Red's world would critical information come to him through a janitor at the U.S. Embassy in Prague.

"Do you have the envelope?" Ressler asked.

The old man grinned and leaned over and reached into his bedside table with a grunt. He emerged with a faded yellow envelope with the words "Raymond Reddington" scrawled on it in script. "But of course," the man replied.

* * *

Two hours and several taxi cabs and metro stops later, Ressler returned to his original suite, exhausted, and handed Red the envelope while filling him in on the old man's story. Red blinked rapidly when he was finished.

"So he knew Katarina?" Red asked in disbelief.

"So it seems," Ressler replied evenly. "You gonna open that envelope?"

"Did he say specifically when she gave this to him?" Red pressed. Ressler shook his head. "He was pretty vague on the timeline. I guess I probably should have pressed him more on that, but I was more concerned with getting it and getting it back to you."

Red nodded absently as he fingered the envelope. "That's her handwriting," he breathed. "I'd know it anywhere."

Slowly, Red opened the envelope. He reached his hand inside and pulled out a square, dark object.

"That's an old hard drive," Ressler said.

"Indeed," Red replied. "Well, Donald, it looks like our work here is done. I guess we'll return to Elizabeth in the morning after all." Red tilted his head at Dembe in what looked like a nod. Dembe reached into his pocket and tossed Ressler his phone.

"Goodnight, Donald. We'll be wheels up at 8 a.m."

* * *

Ressler fingered his phone as he returned to his room. He lay on his back on his bed in his suit and reflected on the day's events. In the end, the mission had been far less risky and far less exciting than he'd originally imagined. He'd pictured Red, Dembe and himself, entering a building and interrogating suspects guns ablazing. He was both relieved and very slightly disappointed that it had turned out otherwise. Hopefully the contents of the mysterious hard drive would prove to be something more than nothing.

He glanced at his phone again. He knew Liz must be in agony in D.C., not knowing what was going on. Red wouldn't have given him his phone if he hadn't intended for him to use it. Ressler sat up, removed his tie, loosened his shirt and then lay back on the bed and picked up his phone once more.

She answered on the first ring. "Where are you? Are you ok?" she asked in a worried tone.

Ressler smiled faintly. "I'm fine. It's done. We're coming home tomorrow."


	11. Home

_Present day..._

It was late afternoon when Red's jet landed at the air strip just outside of Washington, D.C. Ressler stood at the top of the jet's stairs, and glanced down at the runway below. Cooper and Liz stood waiting by a familiar black Suburban. Beside them was Red's Mercedes. Liz's face lit up at the sight of Ressler and, as he descended the steps, she ran towards him and let him fold her in his arms.

"It's ok," he murmured. "Everything's ok." He kissed the top of her head lightly.

Liz clung to him wordlessly as Cooper smiled behind her. When she eventually pulled back, he could see the tears glistening in her eyes as she gave him a watery smile. "Welcome back," she whispered as he gently brushed a tear off her cheek.

Liz's expression turned more somber as she watched Red and Dembe descend the stairs behind him.

"Elizabeth," Red said evenly. Liz glanced back and forth between Red and Ressler, all the while never loosening her grip on Ressler.

"Red," she replied, warily.

They were like two cats sizing up one another as Ressler shifted his glance from one to the other. He knew they needed to come together and talk - really talk. He just wasn't sure of the best way to make that happen. Fortunately, Dembe stepped in.

"Elizabeth. You need to come with us. It's time for you and Raymond to talk," Dembe said firmly.

Liz scanned Ressler's face anxiously but he dipped his head in quiet agreement. Liz and Red did need to talk. Now, more than ever. Liz slowly released him from her grip and, with a quick squeeze of his fingertips, turned and slid into the back seat of the Mercedes. Red got in from the other side and Dembe slid into the front seat beside the driver.

As the Mercedes drove away, Cooper turned to Ressler and clapped his shoulder. "I can't wait to hear about this one." _If only I could tell you all of it_ , Ressler thought to himself. He knew it wasn't his place. Only Red would decide how much of the story would be shared - or not shared - with the rest of the Task Force.

* * *

Later that night, Ressler was about to head to bed when he heard a soft knock at his door. He glanced through the peephole and was surprised to see Liz standing there. He'd expected her to be tied up with Reddington all night.

"Can I come in?" she asked shyly as he opened the door. "I know it's late. I won't stay long."

"Of course," he replied as he held the door open. "Is everything ok? Did you and Red talk?"

"We did," Liz replied. "He told me all of it." She shook her head. "I'm still processing it all."

Ressler nodded. He could see the exhaustion and confusion etched on her face and felt immediately sympathetic. He'd had several more days than her to begin to adjust to Red's story. Barely thinking, he stepped forward and took her in his arms again to offer what comfort he could. They stood quietly for a while, simply embracing, before Liz pulled back and took Ressler's hands. "Thank you," she said simply.

"For what?" Ressler asked.

"For going along with it, for trying to help - I was so terrified he was going to kill you but hearing your voice - that was the only thing that calmed me down," Liz replied tearfully.

"He was never gonna hurt me, Liz," Ressler replied softly. "I was never worried about that."

Liz exhaled. "I knew that too. Deep down. But I think I just panicked when I realized he'd taken you. I was less concerned about him hurting you than about him putting you in an untenable situation."

"And, instead we walked away with a hard drive," Ressler replied. "Does he have any idea what's on it?"

Liz shook her head. "If he does, he didn't say. I do think he'll turn it over to Aram and we'll find out eventually. The things he told me I - I —"

"We've been judging him all wrong," Ressler said quietly.

Liz nodded. "Yes. He didn't do what he did to destroy my life or my father or my parents. He always thought he was doing what was best."

"That moment you realize your enemy isn't actually your enemy," Ressler murmured as he took her in his arms again. "Believe me, I understand. So what now?"

"Now, I finally know why he's done what he's done," Liz replied as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "We'll figure out what's on that hard drive and where it takes us, but we'll do it together. All of us," Liz whispered.

"Partners," Ressler replied softly.

"Exactly," Liz replied as she nestled closer against his chest.


End file.
